V 


p 


SHIPMATES 


"I  order  you  to  leave  my  boat  at  once  !  " 

(See  page  25.) 


By 

MORGAN   ROBERTSON 

Author  of 

*' Masters    of  Men,"    "Where  Angels   Fear  to 
Tread,"  *' Spun  Yarn,"  etc. 


4* 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

1901 


Copyright,  1901, 
By  D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY. 


TO 

GEOEGE  HOJIAGE  LOEIMEE 


O  1  O9)  k  o 


CONTENTS 


PAOB 

The  Nuisance 1 

The  Fool  Killer 51 

The  Devil  and  his  Due 73 

Polarity:  A  Tale  of  Two  Brunettes  ....  123 

A  Tale  of  a  Pigtail 159 

The  Man  at  the  Wheel 175 

The  Day  op  the  Dog 209 

At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope        .       ,       .       .       .  243 

A  Fall  from  Grace 275 

The  Dutch  Port  Watch 311 

On  the  Forecastle  Deck 335 


vu 


THE  NUISANCE 


PAET  I 

Nature  had  endowed  him  with  brain  and  the 
essentials  of  manhood,  but  his  parents,  unable  to 
comprehend,  had  endeavoured  to  supplant  these 
with  the  education  of  a  young  lady.  They  par- 
tially succeeded.  At  seventeen  he  was  a  credit  to 
his  tutelage — as  harmless  and  useless  a  prig  as  re- 
fined environment  can  produce.  His  diction  was 
faultless,  his  dress  immaculate,  and  his  morals 
above  par. 

Intended  for  the  ministry,  he  had  been  shielded 
from  the  contaminating  associations  of  public 
schools,  and  what  he  knew  he  had  learned  from  his 
parents,  his  nurse,  his  governess,  and  private  tutor. 
He  knew  that  most  people  were  vulgar,  that  incor- 
rect speech  was  but  little  less  sinful  than  profanity, 
that  quarrelling,  even  in  self-defence,  was  shock- 
ingly disgraceful,  and  that  the  only  fit  and  con- 
sistent course  of  action  for  a  gentleman  afflicted  by 
sudden  assault  was  to  turn  the  unsmitten  cheek  to 

1 


Shipmates 


-f-rJ- 


the  smiter.  He  knew  that  women  were  good  in  a 
ratio  commensurate  with  their  beauty — that  while 
an  old  or  ill-favoured  woman  might  be  vengeful  and 
dishonest,  it  was  manifestly  impossible  for  a  young 
and  charming  girl  to  have  a  wicked  thought  or  mo- 
tive. As  he  had  no  sisters,  and  his  intercourse 
with  young  ladies  usually  began  and  ended  with 
the  lifting  of  his  hat,  it  was  easy  for  him  to  know 
this. 

He  knew  a  few  other  things  of  no  account,  and 
the  list  of  practical  things  which  he  did  not  know 
is  beyond  enumeration.  In  time  he  learned  and 
unlearned  a  great  many,  but  this  concept  of  wom- 
ankind, born  of  his  seclusion,  nourished  by  a  strong 
romantic  fancy,  and  proven  conclusively  by  his 
carefully  selected  literature — which  told  only  of 
the  good,  the  pure  and  the  beautiful — made  an 
impress  on  his  mind  that  was  never  thoroughly 
effaced. 

At  this  stage  of  his  development  his  mother 
died,  and  with  her  going  went  a  large  part  of  the 
gentle  pressure  that  had  moulded  his  character. 
His  abstracted  and  grief-stricken  father,  having 
done  his  duty  by  the  boy,  now  left  him  to  himself. 
So  he  lifted  his  head  and  looked  about.  Grounded 
as  he  was  in  propriety,  he  used  his  new-found  lib- 

2 


The  Nuisance 


erty  only  in  the  matter  of  books.  It  was  enough. 
He  read  what  he  could  not  have  found  in  his 
father's  library.  Choosing  at  haphazard,  he  de- 
voured iconoclastic  philosophy,  which  played  havoc 
with  some  of  his  spiritual  beliefs;  modern  political 
economy,  which  told  him  that  things  were  not  as 
they  might  be;  novels  which,  while  widening  his 
horizon,  conflicted  in  nowise  with  his  ideals — and 
finally,  a  tale  of  the  sea.  This  last  opened  up  a  new 
world  to  him,  and  choosing  no  more  at  haphazard, 
he  drank  in  all  printed  nautical  lore  that  was  within 
reach. 

There  was  a  strain  of  Norse  blood  in  his  veins. 
Externally,  it  manifested  itself  in  yellow  hair,  blue 
eyes,  pink  skin,  and  promise  of  giant  stature.  In- 
ternally, it  developed  in  his  soul,  under  the  stimu- 
lus of  this  reading,  a  repugnance  for  the  humdrum 
life  laid  out  for  him,  and  a  thirst  for  travel  and  ad- 
venture that  brought  him,  at  the  end  of  a  year, 
into  his  father's  study  to  announce  that  he  would 
not  preach,  that  he  would  go  to  sea,  and  that  he 
had  arranged  preliminaries  with  the  Congressman 
of  the  district — even  to  the  passing  of  a  competi- 
tive examination — ^f  or  an  appointment  to  the  Naval 
Academy.  All  that  he  needed  was  his  father's 
consent  and  an  outfit. 

3 


Shipmates 


At  first  astonished,  then  enraged,  as  he  saw  the 
work  of  years  undone  before  his  eyes,  the  father  re- 
fused, and,  in  the  stormy  scene  which  followed, 
struck  the  boy,  who  had  hardly  felt  pain  in  all  his 
life.  What  followed  was  humiliating.  The  father 
was  larger  than  the  son,  and  in  his  prime;  but  his 
arms  were  pinioned  immovably  to  his  side,  and  he 
was  forced  into  a  chair,  while  the  boy,  white  as 
death,  save  where  the  open  hand  had  left  its  red 
imprint,  looked  into  his  face  and  informed  him  in  a 
new  voice  that  he  wished  he  were  not  his  father  so 
that  he  might  fittingly  return  the  blow.  When  re- 
leased, the  furious  man  gained  the  front  door, 
opened  it,  and  explosively  ordered  the  ingrate  to 
go,  never  to  come  back. 

So,  John  Braisted  left  home.  Whatever  of 
remorse  or  regret  the  father  may  have  felt  when 
his  anger  cooled  he  carefully  concealed.  Three 
months  later,  when  the  Congressman  showed  him 
a  letter  from  mid-ocean,  full  of  boyish  explanation 
and  complaint,  he  displayed  as  little  interest  as  he 
did  four  years  after,  when  the  same  Congressman 
— who  was  interested — read  him  a  newspaper  ac- 
count of  a  heroic  rescue  at  sea,  in  which  the  name 
and  description  of  John  Braisted,  Third  Mate, 
was  given  laudatory  prominence.      Still,  he  was 

4 


The  Nuisance 


a  father,  and  there  was  Norse  blood  in  his 
own  veins. 

The  events  and  adventures — the  strenuous  se- 
quence of  hard  knocks  and  hard  fare  that  went  to- 
ward the  unmaking  and  remaking  of  John  Brais- 
ted,  have  no  place  here.  At  the  end  of  ten  years 
an  endless  chain  of  letters  and  a  radiating  flow  of 
money  overspread  the  world.  Consuls,  commis- 
sioners, crimps  and  runners,  pilots  and  marine  edi- 
tors, where  English  is  spoken,  knew  that  a  slowly 
dying  father  would  see  his  sailor  son  before  the 
end.  And  so,  one  day,  the  big  chief  mate  of  a  big 
in-bound  ship  received  a  newspaper  clipping  from 
the  pilot  at  Hongkong,  quit  his  berth  when  the 
anchor  dropped  (to  the  annoyance  of  his  captain, 
for  he  was  a  good  officer),  took  steamer  passage  for 
New  York,  and  arrived  barely  in  time  to  clasp  the 
hand  of  a  worn  and  withered  man  and  promise  to 
give  up  the  sea. 

It  was  not  the  John  Braisted  of  ten  years  ago. 
An  overgrown,  unformed  boy,  with  a  girl's  face, 
had  gone  away;  a  straight-limbed,  square-shoul- 
dered giant  had  come  back — a  man  with  a  voice 
of  authority,  with  face  the  colour  of  old  copper, 
and  hair  the  lighter  hue  of  hemp — whose  gait  and 
gestures  suggested  the  grace  and  agility  of  a  pan- 

5 


Shipmates 


ther,  with  the  might  of  a  grizzly  bear.  In  him 
was  promise  of  popularity  and  good-fellowship, 
and  men  claimed  acquaintance  with  him.  His  fa- 
ther's estate  yielded  him  an  income  more  than  suf- 
ficient for  his  wants;  and  with  nothing  to  do,  this 
masterful  son  of  the  sea  donned  his  first  dress  suit, 
and,  under  the  auspices  of  a  fad-finding  aunt  whose 
social  position  was  impregnable,  made  his  bow  to  a 
matured  metropolitan  society. 

Society  flocked  to  meet  the  lion.  Men  compre- 
hended and  liked  him;  he  joined  their  yacht  clubs 
and  told  them  where  they  stood.  Their  wives,  sis- 
ters and  daughters,  understanding  him  as  little  as 
he  understood  them,  but  influenced  by  masculine 
praise,  sought  his  company,  tried  him  by  their 
tests,  weighed  him  in  their  balance,  and  judged  him 
by  their  law. 

In  a  measure  he  had  preserved  the  correctness 
of  his  speech  and  his  taste  in  dress,  but  he  lacked 
the  unconscious  knowledge  of  small  social  form 
which  landsmen  absorb  with  their  growth  and  de- 
velopment. The  formulas  "  come  and  see  me,'' 
and  "  not  at  home,"  were  truths  to  him  at  first,  then 
lies.  He  resented  such  small  evasions,  but  over- 
looked intentional  and  transparent  deception. 
Across  the  years  of  his  seafaring  he  had  carried  in 

6 


The  Nuisance 


his  mind  the  childish  correlation  of  beauty  and 
goodness.  He  could  see  no  guile  in  the  smiling 
eyes  of  a  bare-shouldered  daughter  of  Eve  whose 
main  object  in  smiling  was  to  test  the  strength  of 
his  armour,  and  who,  only  in  her  school  days,  could 
have  appreciated  the  homage  he  paid  to  her  sex 
in  his  direct  replies  and  queries,  his  badly  timed 
comments,  and  his  tactless  silences — all  arising 
from  his  own  shyness  and  embarrassment,  but 
bearing  the  outward  semblance  of  arrogance. 

He  was  vaguely  conscious  from  the  first  that  in 
this  hot-house  atmosphere  he  was  not  as  other  men; 
but,  proud  of  his  manhood,  and  placing  but  a  small 
estimate  on  that  of  these  other  men,  he  exchanged 
no  confidences  and  asked  no  advice.  His  aunt  could 
not  safely  be  affronted,  and  there  was  no  apparent 
lessening  of  the  demand  for  his  society.  ,So  the 
well-meaning  victim  of  diverted  development — the 
product  of  the  nursery  and  the  forecastle — went 
blindly  and  innocently  on  to  his  punishment,  tram- 
pling on  small  prejudice  and  precedent  in  a  manner 
not  to  be  forgiven. 

Flushed  cheeks  were  beyond  his  power  of  anal- 
ysis; moist  and  angry  eyes  were  turned  away  from 
him;  just  criticism  never  reached  his  ears,  and  his 
confusion  increased.     At  last  the  fair  lion-tamers, 

7 


Shipmates 


by  comparing  notes  and  by  mutual  encouragement, 
reached  a  verdict  that  even  his  aunt's  influence 
could  not  modify.  Some  considered  him  a  boor; 
others  thought  him  intentionally  hateful;  but  all 
agreed  that  he  was  an  utterly  impossible  man,  who 
smelled  vilely  of  tobacco.  Consequently  they  po- 
litely snubbed  him;  but  as  he  was  not  yet  able  to 
see  beneath  the  politeness,  the  lesson  was  lost. 

Then  one  brave  spirit  pointedly  ignored  his 
street  greeting  and  watched  the  effect.  It  needed 
a  repetition  before  the  sensitive  self-conscious 
man  made  sure  of  the  animus;  but,  when  he  had 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  experience,  that 
particular  young  person  ceased  to  exist  for  him. 
She  delightedly  and  excitedly  told  the  tale.  Others 
followed  suit,  and  soon  there  was  a  charmed  circle, 
whose  members  discussed  the  pariah  at  informal 
meetings,  and  into  which  enthusiastic,  bright-eyed 
aspirants  eagerly  sought  entrance,  as  men  seek  ad- 
mission to  a  popular  club,  bringing  as  credentials 
the  latest  tale  of  snub.  I^ot  to  know  hinl  became  a 
social  advantage.  Braisted,  the  more  vulnerable 
because  of  his  vigorous  chivalry  and  honest  intent, 
suffered  keenly,  but  dumbly — and  found  himself 
utterly  helpless  in  a  warfare  that  youth  meets  with 
derision  and  reprisal. 

8 


The  Nuisance 


The  clause  in  his  indictment  regarding  tobacco 
was  true.  He  had  acquired  the  smoking  habit  at 
sea,  and  in  his  present  idleness  indulged  in  it  fre- 
quently, through  the  medium  of  a  black  brier  pipe, 
which  he  carried  with  him  upon  all  occasions.  It 
was  before  the  time  when  pipes  were  admitted  to 
good  society,  and  he  was  conscientiously  careful 
not  to  smoke  in  the  presence  of  ladies;  but  his  cloth- 
ing was  saturated  with  the  fumes,  and  as  he  him- 
self— like  all  smokers — was  immune  to  the  odour, 
and  as  no  man  cared  to  tell  him,  he  remained  bliss- 
fully unconscious  of  his  atmosphere,  until,  one  day, 
the  knowledge  came  to  him  with  other  information 
in  understandable  terms  that  brought  his  brief 
career  in  polite  society  to  a  temporary  close. 

It  was  a  girl,  of  course — a  brown-eyed  girl  of 
stately  mould  and  well-stored  mind.  She  was  a 
few  years  his  junior;  she  had  not  sought  his  ac- 
quaintanceship, and,  wiser  than  her  sisters,  showed 
no  fervid  desire  to  give  it  up.  Hence  she  possessed, 
in  time,  a  peculiar  interest  for  him  that  bore  no 
relation  to  the  fact  that  she  was  wealthy  in  her  own 
right  and  the  daughter  of  a  wealthier  widow.  As 
his  sense  of  isolation  grew  upon  him,  he  had  wel- 
comed the  mute  sympathy  which  he  found  in  her 
manner  and  expression,  and  took  up  more  of  her 
2  9 


Shipmates 


time  than  she  might  have  spared  to  another.  Fi- 
nally her  pity  for  his  bewilderment  took  the  form 
of  tuition.  Yielding  to  the  maternal  instinct  in- 
herent in  the  sex — which  prompts  small  girls  to 
scold  small  brothers — she  threw  out  delicate  hints, 
which  he  gladly  tried  to  profit  by.  But  the  man 
needed  a  real  mother,  who  could  do  more  than 
hint.  When  she  touched  upon  his  atmosphere, 
he  smiled,  unbelieving,  and  wondered  at  her  imag- 
ination; for  his  own  sense  of  smell — or  lack  of 
it — contradicted  the  gentle  accusation.  However, 
after  three  smokeless  days  he  appeared  before  her, 
with  hands  shaking  from  nervous  strain,  and  an- 
nounced that  he  had  given  it  up — for  her.  As 
he  wore  the  same  clothing,  she  had  sniffed  sus- 
piciously, and,  for  obvious  reasons,  displayed  no 
keen  interest  in  his  alleged  reform.  Then,  in  a 
spasm  of  pique,  he  backslid,  and  smoked  himself 
into  good  health. 

Her  manner  was  guarded  now,  and  it  had  the 
effect  of  spurring  him  to  a  blunt  statement  of  fact, 
and  a  blunter  question,  to  which  she  responded 
with  a  firmly  spoken  ''  JS'o.'^  But  he  would  not 
take  this  for  an  answer.  Somehow,  from  his  in- 
adequate reading  and  limited  experience  he  had 
evolved  the  futile  theory  that  a  woman's  "  No '' 

10 


The  Nuisance 


invariably  meant ''  Yes,"  and  lie  asked  the  question 
again  and  again.  Had  he  shown  less  anxiety  as  to 
his  fate,  or  less  faith  in  the  truth  of  the  theory,  he 
might  have  won  by  pure  persistence;  for  it  was 
plain  that  she  liked  him.  As  it  was,  the  continuous 
recurrence  of  the  never-settled  question — ^which 
had  become  as  vital  to  him  as  life  itself — irritated 
the  girl  beyond  endurance,  and  at  last,  on  the  verge 
of  hysterics,  she  faced  him  with  angry  eyes,  and  the 
storm  descended. 

"  Why  do  you  not  let  me  alone? "  she  asked. 
''  Why  should  I  marry  you  when  I  do  not  love  you? 
More,  why  should  I,  how  could  I  love  you?  Are 
you  a  gentleman?  ;N"o,  or  you  would  not  annoy 
me.  Can  you  live,  without  comment  or  criticism, 
the  life  I  am  living?  N'o.  You  are  a  slave  to  a 
filthy  habit;  you  continually  make  yourself  ridicu- 
lous, and  have  made  me  so  while  I  have  been  trying 
to  help  you.  Have  you  self-respect  and  ambition? 
No,  or  you  would  not  be  content  as  you  are.  Have 
you  moral  fibre  that  commands  consideration? 
You  have  lied  to  me,  pitifully  and  trivially,  about 
your  miserable  pipe — for  what  object  I  can  not 
guess.    You  have  become  a  veritable  nuisance !  " 

Then  she  burst  into  tears. 

He  turned  and  left  her  without  a  word.  In  the 
IX 


shipmates 


succeeding  twenty-four  hours  lie  experienced  all 
the  emotions  to  which  the  human  mind  is  suscep- 
tible except  joy  and  anger.  Her  words  forbade  the 
one,  her  tears  the  other.  He  dealt  his  aunt  insane 
reproach;  and  the  busy,  frivolous  woman,  judging 
only  by  externals — his  handsome  face  and  magnifi- 
cent physique — wept  copiously,  and  washed  her 
hands  of  him.  Then  he  disgustedly  packed  his 
trunk  and  travelled — anywhere. 

With  him  went  his  pipe,  and  for  six  months  it 
never  became  cold  during  his  waking  hours.  It 
softened  the  discord  of  the  bitter  song  in  his  brain, 
the  most  jarring  note  of  which  was  the  word  "  nui- 
sance.'^ In  the  end  he  silenced  the  song,  but  sub- 
stituted the  savage  judgment  on  himself:  "  Served 
me  right.  I'm  an  educated  pig — badly  educated, 
and  wholly  pig."  The  last  clause  signified  a  hope- 
lessness that  robbed  him  even  of  the  wish  to  please 
— which,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances,  may 
have  been  good  for  him. 

His  flight  from  himself  and  his  memories  had 
carried  him  to  the  wilderness,  and  late  one  sultry 
afternoon,  clad  in  a  soiled  outing-suit,  and  smoking 
his  pipe,  he  stood  on  the  beach  of  a  Florida  lagoon, 
studying  a  craft  at  anchor  with  all  a  sailor's  criti- 
cism.   As  indicated  by  the  burgee  and  private  sig- 

12 


The  Nuisance 


nal  at  the  trucks,  it  was  a  yacht;  and  indeed,  be- 
low the  water-line  the  vessel  was  yacht-like  enough, 
if  her  lines  were  an  index;  but  above,  though  the 
craft  was  no  larger  than  an  ordinary  schooner- 
yacht,  were  the  short  ends,  spars  and  rigging  of  a 
square-rigged  ship.  She  carried  neither  skysails 
nor  stunsails,  and  the  cabin  trunk  extended  to  the 
foremast,  but  in  other  respects,  even  to  the  stand- 
ing spanker  gaff,  she  was  outwardly  a  complete 
miniature  of  the  old  Cape  Horn  clippers,  and  with 
her  glossy  black  hull,  varnished  spars  and  sparkling 
brasswork,  as  beautiful  a  craft  as  Braisted  had 
ever  seen. 

On  the  beach  was  the  yacht's  dingey,  and  on 
the  backboard  in  the  stern-sheets  Braisted  read  the 
name.  Argonaut.  It  called  up  recollections  of 
yacht-club  gossip  concerning  this  craft  and  her 
owner — a  fat,  smooth-faced  and  effusive  young 
man  named  Fanwood,  who  had  not  impressed  him 
favourably  when  he  had  met  him,  and  who  seemed 
to  be  as  unique  among  yachtsmen  as  the  Argonaut 
was  among  yachts.  He  was — so  ran  the  gossip — 
possessed  of  an  income  too  large  for  intelligent  dis- 
tribution and  the  smallest  brain-power  compatible 
with  sanity.  He  was  a  one-idea  man,  intensely  en- 
thusiastic about  whatever  occupied  his  mind  for 

13 


shipmates 


the  moment,  and  in  his  way  fond  of  outdoor 
sport,  which  prompted  him  to  build  freak  yachts 
like  the  Argonaut.  He  spoke  with  a  natural 
lisp,  a  very  unnatural  English  accent,  and  radi- 
ated a  general  offensiveness,  due  to  his  limita- 
tions. 

As  Braisted's  musings  reached  this  point  he 
was  tapped  on  the  shoulder  and  a  voice  spoke : 

''Bwaithted,  ithn't  it?  How  d'ye  do?  By 
Jove,  what  bringths  you  down  here  ?  '^ 

"  Out  to  grass,  Fanwood,"  he  answered,  as  he 
turned  and  shook  hands.  ''  Knew  you  by  your 
yacht  and  your  musical  voice.  Nothing  like  'em  on 
earth.  How  many  hands  do  you  carry  in  that  play- 
thing? " 

"  None  now — bleth  the  luck!  I'm  in  a  peck  of 
twouble.  Whole  crew  quit  me  yetht'day — every 
one.  No  one  to  cook  or  do  anything.  Can't  get 
away.  Beathly  nuisance.  Telegwaphed  to  Fer- 
nandina.  Cedar  Keys,  St.  Augustine — lots  of 
thailor  men,  no  captains.  Can't  wun  her  myself, 
you  now.  Bleth  me,  Bwaithted,  what  a  villainous 
pipe!    Smoke  that  all  the  time?  " 

"  Most  always,"  answered  Braisted  with  a 
smile,  as  he  blew  more  smoke  to  windward.  ''  Why 
don't  you  send  for  a  tug? " 

14 


77?^^  Nuisance 


^^  Oh,  that  wouldn't  do,  don't  you  know; 
wouldn't  be  thporthmanlike,"  coughed  Fanwood. 
"  But  I  sent  for  twenty-j&ve  thailor  men.  Be  here 
to-morrow." 

"  That's  sensible.  All  you  really  want  now  is 
a  skipper.  Let's  think.  I'm  under  promise  to — 
but,  Fanwood,  you  have  a  party,  I  see — ladies,  too. 
Any  one  I  know?  " 

"  Think  not.  Mother  ith  along,  and  a  few  of 
her  fwiends.  Mr.  Brimm,  pwesident  of  an  anti- 
tobacco  league,  and  hith  thon,  Eugene,  and 
Mrs. " 

"  Hold  on,  Fanwood ;  what  made  your  crew 
quit  you? " 

"  I  vow  I  don't  know.  I  did  evwything  I  could 
for  them.  Sheets  and  pillow-cases  in  the  berths, 
and  tablecloths,  and  napkins — yeth  sir,  each  man 
had  his  own  napkin  ring.  Yet  they  thwore  fwight- 
fully  before  the  ladies,  and  at  last  they  mu- 
tinied  " 

Braisted  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter — the  first 
genuine  laughter  he  had  enjoyed  for  months. 

"  Sheets  and  pillow-cases!  "  he  repeated  when 
he  could.  "  And  napkins !  Anti-smoking  crank 
aboard!  Kept  'em  up  in  their  watch  below  to  be 
lectured  to,  I  suppose." 

15 


shipmates 


"  But  it  wath  all  for  their  own  good/'  rejoined 
Fanwood. 

"  Well,  now,  here — got  a  sextant  and  chronom- 
eter aboard?  Or  did  your  skipper  furnish  his 
own?" 

"  Gueth  tho.    I  bought  evwy thing." 

"  Well,  you  suppress  the  services,  and  I'll  take 
your  little  ship  up  to  Fernandina,  where  you  can 
look  around  for  a  skipper." 

"You?  Weally?  Why,  bleth  me,  yeth!  I 
heard  you  had  been  a  thailor.  But,  have  you  been 
a  captain  ?  She's  a  ship,  you  know,  and  thailor  men 
are  a  wough  lot — hard  to  manage." 

"  I'm  a  rough  lot  myself,"  said  Braisted  grave- 
ly, "  and  it  took  me  ten  years  to  learn  what  I  know 
about  ships  and  sailors.  I  promised  my  father  to 
give  up  the  life;  so  I'll  go  aboard  as  your  guest,  if 
you  like — but,  understand  me,  a  guest  with  all  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  a  skipper.  There  must  be 
no  interference  between  myself  and  the  men;  and 
if  I  give  an  order,  to  a  sailor  or  passenger,  that 
order  must  be  obeyed.  You  need  a  sailing-master 
— I  need  a  sniff  of  salt  air.    Is  it  agreed?  " 

"  Thertainly — thertainly,  Bwaithted;  and  I 
call  this  a  dithpenthation  of  Pwovidence,  I  weally 
do.    Where  ith  your  luggage?    That  ith  a  pwetty 

16 


The  Nuisance 


wocky  suit  you  have  on.  Gueth  the  thailing-mas- 
ter's  uniform  will  just  fit  you." 

"  Will  it?  Well,  I'll  not  wear  your  livery,  just 
the  same.  And  as  I  don't  go  aboard  to  impress 
your  guests,  I'll  wear  this  rig  until  my  trunk 
comes.  It's  three  miles  inland  at  a  hotel.  I'll  wire 
for  it." 

This  done,  they  pulled  off  in  the  dingey,  and  on 
the  yacht's  white  deck  Braisted,  with  pipe  out  of 
sight,  and  mental  poise  steadied  and  strengthened 
by  six  months'  immunity  from  shock  and  surprise, 
bore  gracefully  the  ordeal  of  a  sweeping  introduc- 
tion to  Mrs.  Fanwood — a  portly,  hook-nosed  wom- 
an, who  said  that  she  was  glad  to  know  him,  and 
looked  otherwise — to  Mr.  Brimm,  the  enemy  of  to- 
bacco, tall,  unctuous  and  flabby-handed,  and  to  his 
son,  Eugene,  a  frank-faced  youngster  of  eighteen. 
But  when  he  was  presented  to  a  kind-looking,  mid- 
dle-aged lady  at  the  after  companionway,  who  an- 
nounced distinctly  that  she  was  ''  very  pleased  to 
make  his  acquaintance,"  speech  left  him;  and  when 
he  looked  into  the  brown  eyes  of  a  younger,  state- 
lier woman  who  followed  up  the  steps,  and  whom 
the  other  described  as  ''  My  daughter.  Miss  Flem- 
ing," he  became  dizzy;  for  he  had  known  the  mother 
nearly  as  well  as  the  daughter.     The  girl  merely 

17 


Shipmates 


bowed  to  him,  with  eyes  on  the  deck,  and  in  his  em- 
barrassment he  turned  to  Fanwood,  who  was  now 
explaining  matters  to  his  mother  and  Mr.  Brimm. 
The  searching  inquiry  which  these  two  made  as  to 
his  record  and  ancestry,  his  habits  and  accomplish- 
ments, nautical  and  social,  and  as  to  his  morals, 
completed  his  collapse,  but  convinced  him,  con- 
fused as  he  was,  that  his  experience  with  Miss 
Fleming  was  known  only  to  her  mother. 

To  escape  the  catechism,  however,  he  desper- 
ately asked  Fanwood  the  location  of  the  skipper's 
room — and  fled.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Fanwood 
averred  that  he  talked  like  a  fool  and  looked  like 
an  idiot,  and  that  she  never  would  permit  him  to 
take  command  of  the  yacht. 

In  the  sailing-master's  room,  with  heart  beating 
painfully,  Braisted  mopped  his  forehead  and  sat 
down  to  collect  his  scattered  faculties.  "  Pleased 
to  make  my  acquaintance,"  he  muttered.  "  That's 
my  cue.  Saves  explaining  to  the  rest.  I  under- 
stand— I'm  to  keep  my  distance.  I'll  keep  it,  by 
Heaven !  Recognised  me  in  the  boat — I  saw  them 
— more  than  one  woman  on  deck — went  below  to 
consult — and  then  I  got  that — ^  Pleased  to  make 
your  acquaintance.'  And  she'll  think  I  came 
aboard  on  her  account — invited  myself.    And  Fan- 

18 


The  Nuisance 


wood'll  give  it  out  that  way.  All  right.  I'll  clear 
out  just  as  quickly.  I'll  take  a  smoke,  and  then — 
"the  dingey." 

He  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  the  old  rage 
strong  upon  him — the  old  song  gathering  force  in 
his  brain.  "  Not  a  gentleman,"  he  growled  to  him- 
self as  he  puffed  savagely;  "  ridiculous — a  liar, 
without  moral  fibre.    I'm  all  that — yes,  every  bit 

of  it;  but  not  a  nuisance.     I'm  d d  if  I'll  be  a 

nuisance !  She'll  never  call  me  that  again,  God — 
bless  her!  " 

The  reactive  effect  of  the  blessing  invoked  by 
his  heart  against  the  dictum  of  his  brain  brought 
him  a  slight  measure  of  tranquility,  and  he  began  to 
take  some  interest  in  his  surroundings.  He  noticed 
a  triangular  box  on  a  shelf  which  he  knew  con- 
tained nothing  but  a  sextant.  Rolls  of  charts  and 
a  tell-tale  compass  hung  from  the  carlines;  on  the 
bulkhead  was  a  large  aneroid  barometer;  on  the 
desk  was  the  closed  log-book,  and  in  a  locker — or 
alcove  in  the  bulkhead — the  yacht's  chronometer, 
which,  on  examining,  he  found  run  down.  He 
opened  the  log-book.  The  last  entry  was  two  days 
old,  giving  the  yacht's  position  at  noon  and  the 
subsequent  run  to  the  lagoon;  and  in  the  "  re- 
marks "  column  was  this : 

19 


Shipmates 


"  All  hands  quit  this  ship  to-day,  having 
brought  her  to  a  safe  anchorage,  because,  although 
there  are  enough  of  us  to  man  a  ship  three  times 
as  big,  we  are  not  allowed  to  smoke  even  below 
decks. 

"  We  believe  we  are  justified  by  the  customs 
of  the  sea  in  bringing  this  floating  Sunday-school 
to  port  and  leaving  her.  We  take  only  our  own 
clothes  and  property.  Uniforms  are  in  the  fore- 
castle and  ofiicers'  rooms. 

''  (Signed)  John  Barry,  Sailing-Master. 

''  George  Edwards,  Mate.'^ 

The  unconscious  humour  of  the  manifesto  ap- 
pealed to  Braisted,  and  he  laughed  softly.  Then 
came  the  thought :  "  But — why —  It's  lunacy. 
Whoever  heard  of  stopping  tobacco  aboard  ship? 
Fanwood's  fool  enough,  but  he  wouldn't  hold  out. 
His  mother's  no  fool — she  wouldn't  try.  It's  Ma- 
bel, surely.  She's  a  reformer — though  a  mighty 
poor  one — and  she's  undoubtedly  behind  this — 
with  the  old  man  to  back  her  up,  perhaps.  How, 
though?  What's  her  hold  on  Fanwood?  What's 
she  doing  aboard  this  yacht? " 

A  pang  of  jealousy  whitened  his  face  for  a  mo- 
ment; but  though  it  displaced  the  last  trace  of  hi^ 

20 


The  Nuisance 


anger,  it  left  all  the  antagonism  of  hopelessness. 
Gulping  down  a  disconsolate  exclamation,  he 
turned  toward  the  door  and  his  eyes  rested  on  the 
barometer.  The  reading  startled  him:  the  indica- 
tor marked  below  twenty-nine.  He  shook  the  in- 
strument, but  there  was  no  change;  in  another  al- 
cove he  found  a  mercurial  barometer  which  agreed 
with  it,  and  he  sought  the  deck,  but  not  the  dingey. 

It  was  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  the 
sun,  a  blood-red  ball,  was  setting  in  an  opaque  bank 
over  the  land.  The  sultriness  of  the  air  had  be- 
come a  humid  stagnation  which  seemed  to  oppress 
the  breathing.  What  tide  came  and  went  in  the 
bay  was  now  at  slack  water,  and  on  the  flat  mirror 
the  little  ship  hovered  over  her  anchor  with  chain 
up-and-down  from  the  hawse-pipe,  while  the  crash- 
ing of  surf  on  the  sea-beach  of  the  Barrier  sounded 
faintly — as  though  from  double  the  distance. 
These  were  signs  of  a  coming  storm — ^not  many 
hours  away. 

Braisted  reversed  his  decision  to  leave. 

There  was  no  immediate  way  of  learning  how 
much  chain  was  out,  but  he  lifted  over  and  cock- 
billed  the  other  anchor — an  easy  task  for  his  broad 
shoulders — and  after  satisfying  himself  that  the 
inner  ends  of  the  chains  were  secured  in  the  locker, 

21 


Shipmates 


he  procured  a  hand-lead  and  tested  the  bottom — 
walking  along  the  rail  from  bow  to  stern,  paying  no 
attention  to  the  silent  observers  under  the  after 
awning.  It  was  hard  and  soft  in  spots,  and  his  mis- 
givings were  confirmed  by  an  inspection  of  the 
charts,  which  said  that  this  bay  was  '^  Poor  anchor- 
age— shallow  beds  of  sand  over  coral,"  and  also 
told  him  that  Captain  Barry  had  chosen  the  best 
spot  available.  Then,  as  a  final  precaution  against 
trouble  in  the  darkness  of  night,  he  went  aft  again 
and  took  the  bearings  of  the  inlet  by  the  deck  com- 
pass near  the  wheel.  His  activity  and  preoccupied 
manner  moved  Fanwood  to  ask  what  troubled  him. 

'^  Bad  weather  coming,"  he  answered  as  he 
emptied  his  pipe  over  the  taffrail  and  looked  from 
one  to  another  of  the  group.  ''  I  don't  like  to  dis- 
turb you,  but  this  is  the  hurricane  season,  and  we 
may  be  piled  up  on  the  Barrier  before  morning. 
Look  there." 

He  pointed  to  the  growing  bank  to  the  west- 
ward, and  all  but  Miss  Fleming  stood  erect  to  look. 
She  remained  seated,  intent  upon  a  book. 

"  If  I  had  a  crew,"  he  continued,  '^  I  should 
warp  out  through  the  inlet,  where  there  is  sea-room 
to  take  it.  Next  best  plan  is  to  haul  over  to  the 
mainland  and  make  the  cables  fast  to  the  trees. 

22 


The  Nuisance 


Do  you  gentlemen  care  to  try  it?    It's  a  long,  hard 
job." 

"  Bleth  me,  no!  "  said  Fanwood.  ''  It  ith  alto- 
gether too  laborious.  Why  can't  we  thtay  where 
we  are? " 

"  I  see  no  occasion  for  alarm/'  said  Mrs.  Fan- 
wood  pompously.  ''  It  looks  like  rain — that  is  all. 
And  we  are  safe  at  anchor — safe  in  port,  I  might 
say.  You  surely  can  know  but  little  of  the  sailor's 
calling,  Mr.  Braisted,  if  you  advocate  leaving  port 
with  a  storm  coming.  Captain  Barry,  villain  that 
he  was,  would  not  have  thought  of  it." , 

"  It  is  useless  to  argue  about  what  I  know,  Mrs. 
Fanwood.  I  judge  by  the  log-book  that  Captain 
Barry  was  a  good  seaman.  He  doubtless  had  suf- 
ficient reason  for  quitting  this  craft.  But  I  blame 
the  man  for  leaving  you  over  bad  holding  ground. 
I  shall  drop  the  other  anchor,  and  when  the  wind 
comes  will  pay  out  all  the  chain.  The  anchors  may 
possibly  hold.  If  they  drag,  however,  I  shall  slip 
both  chains  and  try  to  steer  through  the  inlet." 

"  You  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir!  "  re- 
joined Mrs.  Fanwood.  "  The  idea!  And  what  do 
you  mean,  sir,  by  such  comment  on  Captain  Bar- 
ry's mutinous  desertion  of  us?  What  do  you  mean, 
sir?" 

23 


Shipmates 


"  Young  man/'  interrupted  Mr.  Brimm  patron- 
izingly, "  it  is  really  a  little  surprising  that  you 
should  attempt  to  terrorize  these  ladies  in  this  man- 
ner. True,  you  may  be  alarmed  yourself,  but  you 
surely  would  not  be  were  you  the  seafaring  man 
you  announce  yourself.  I  have  crossed  the  ocean 
many  times.  Believe  me,  sir,  there  is  no  dan- 
ger  " 

"  Fanwood,"  Braisted  interrupted  warmly, 
''  there's  a  log-book  entry  that  will  make  you  the 
laughing-stock  of  every  yacht  club  from  here  to 
Halifax.  Why  did  you  forbid  smoking?  Were 
you  crazy?  Stop  sailors'  pay  and  they'll  take  their 
ship  out  of  danger.  Stop  their  grub,  and  they'll 
growl,  but  work.  Stop  their  tobacco,  and  you'll 
have  open  mutiny.  Women  don't  know  any  better, 
but  you  ought." 

"  Mr.  Braisted,  your  language  is  insufferable !  " 
spluttered  Mrs.  Fanwood. 

"  Very  sorry,  madam,  but  I'm  about  done  talk- 
ing." 

"  Bwaithted,"  said  her  son  with  all  his  scant 
dignity,  "  you  should  wemember  that  as  my  guest 
you  should  be  governed  by  the  wules  of  courtethy 
common  to  gentlemen — ^which  a  mere  thailing- 
mathter  is  not  thupposed  to  pwactice." 

24 


The  Nuisance 


''  Perfectly  right,  Mr.  Fanwood,"  he  answered 
in  a  white  heat.  ''  But  I  am  not  a  gentleman  "  (the 
girl  with  the  book  made  no  sign) ;  ''  neither  am  I 
your  sailing-master  or  your  guest.  I'm  the  '  dith- 
penthation  of  Pwovidenee/  which  you  called  me. 
If  these  ladies  will  go  ashore,  I'll  go  too,  and  stay 
there.  If  not,  I  remain  here  and  see  them  out  of 
this  scrape.'' 

He  started  forward,  and  as  he  passed  the  boy, 
Eugene's  eye  caught  his  for  a  moment.  It  closed 
slowly  in  a  deliberate  wink,  which  the  others  did 
not  see,  and  his  own  eyes  gave  thanks  for  the  sym- 
pathy. 

"  I  order  you  to  leave  my  boat  at  once,'^ 
stormed  Fanwood.  "  You  are  forthing  yourthelf 
on  people  who  do  not  want  your  thothiety.  You 
mean  to  eat  my  food  while  you  inthult  my  mother 
and  my  gueths.  You  get  into  that  boat  and  go! 
Eugene  will  row  you  ashore." 

He  had  presented  an  extreme  view  of  the  case, 
which  momentarily  affected  Braisted.  He  turned 
and  looked  back  at  the  group,  half-minded  to  ac- 
cede. But  a  pair  of  brown  eyes  decided  him.  She 
had  looked  at  him  as  she  might  have  looked  at  the 
mainmast,  with  no  show  of  interest  or  approval; 
but  for  this  he  would  stand  by  her — and  the  others. 
3  25 


Shipmates 


PAET  II 

As  Braisted  leaned  against  the  low  brass  rail, 
trembling  with  excitement,  Mrs.  Fleming  came 
forward,  followed  by  Mr.  Brimm,  who,  however, 
halted  at  a  polite  distance  as  the  lady  accosted  the 
new  sailing-master. 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  said  abruptly.  "  I  judge 
by  your  manner  and  your  somewhat  slighting  ref- 
erence to  women  that  you  consider  us  responsible 
for  the  desertion  of  the  crew.  In  a  measure  we 
were,  as  we  expressed  freely  our  abhorrence  of 
tobacco,  and  this,  no  doubt,  strongly  influenced  Mr. 
Fanwood.  My  husband  died  of  tobacco  heart,  and 
my  son  of  excessive  cigarette  smoking,  as  you 
know "  (Braisted  did  not  know) ;  "  so  you  can 
easily  understand  the  attitude  of  myself  and  daugh- 
ter toward  the  habit;  but  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Brais- 
ted, that  I  did  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  this  fool- 
ish prohibition.  I  know  well  the  mastery  which 
smoking  obtains  over  sailors,  and  the  irritation 
consequent  on  any  sudden  deprivation." 

What  Braisted  might  have  said  in  reply  was 
forestalled  by  the  approach  of  Mr.  Brimm,  who 
had  drawn  near  enough  to  hear  the  last  remark. 

"  A  slavish,  vile  and  unclean  vice/'  he  said 
26 


The  Nuisance 


didactically.  "  A  little  effort  of  will — a  little  re- 
gard for  the  cleanliness  which  is  next  to  godliness, 
and  the  habit  could  be  overcome." 

"  Mr.  Brimm,"  protested  the  lady,  while  Brais- 
ted  stared  hard  at  the  speaker,  ''  this  gentleman 
is  a — this  gentleman  says  that  he  is  a  hard  smoker. 
Please  consider  the  subject  closed.  Now,  Mr. 
Braisted,  tell  me  plainly.  Are  we  in  danger?  Do 
you  think  it  advisable  for  us  to  go  ashore?  I  pro- 
posed this  to  my  daughter  just  now,  but  she  reso- 
lutely refuses  to  go.'' 

"  Mrs.  Fleming,"  he  answered  earnestly,  "  no 
man  can  tell  the  strength  of  coming  wind.  The  ba- 
rometer is  below  twenty-nine;  there  is  a  hurricane 
brewing;  there  is  treacherous  holding-ground  be- 
neath us,  a  stretch  of  shallow  water  to  leeward 
wide  enough  to  raise  a  vicious  sea,  and  a  low  sand- 
spit  out  there  over  which  this  sea  would  dash  and 
wash  us  all  into  the  ocean;  for  if  the  yacht  drags, 
and  strikes  a  hard  spot,  she  will  go  to  pieces.  This 
much  I  know;  but  I  do  not  know  that  the  anchors 
will  not  hold.  If  they  do  not,  I  shall  slip  them  and 
endeavour  to  run  to  sea." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Mr.  Brimm  sternly, 
"  enough  of  this  childish  and  cowardly  croaking! 
You  shall  not  frighten   trusting  and  dependent 

27 


Shipmates 


women  in  this  manner.  You  have  been  ordered  off 
this  yacht,  and  you  remain.  I  have  come  to  en- 
force the  order.    Go.    I  command  you." 

"You  do?  Well,  I  disobey  your  command.'' 
Braisted's  voice  was  quiet,  but  ominously  high- 
pitched. 

Mr.  Brimm  advanced  a  step  toward  him,  and 
for  a  moment  both  men,  equal  in  size  and  weight, 
threatened,  with  their  eyes,  while  Mrs.  Fleming 
clasped  her  hands  and  stepped  back.  But  it  came 
to  nothing.  Mr.  Brimm,  possibly  thinking  of  the 
better  part  of  valour,  turned  away,  and  said, 
"  Come,  Mrs.  Fleming.  It  is  useless  to  bandy 
words  with  this  ruiRan.'' 

And  with  no  further  word  the  lady  accom- 
panied him;  but  Braisted  was  past  feeling  hurt. 
Moreover,  he  half  believed  he  had  been  named 
correctly.  Yet  underneath  it  all  was  a  slight  in- 
crement of  humiliation  in  the  thought  that  Mabel 
Fleming  added  to  her  indictment  a  distrust  of  his 
seamanship — his  one  strong  point. 

Beyond  watching  his  movements,  the  party  aft 
paid  him  no  further  attention,  and  while  the  light 
of  the  evening  lasted  he  walked  about,  familiariz- 
ing himself  with  the  running-gear  and  deck-fit- 
tings.   He  climbed  aloft  and  out  the  jib-boom  to 

28 


The  Nuisance 


loosen  and  rehitch  gaskets;  he  descended  to  the 
chain  locker,  unshackled  the  ends  of  the  chains, 
and  secured  them  in  a  manner  to  be  quickly- 
slipped;  then,  as  the  blackness  covered  the  sky, 
he  lighted  the  side  lights  and  binnacle,  as  well  as 
a  few  deck-lanterns,  which  he  left  in  the  lamp 
locker. 

During  this  time  he  had  heard  the  sound  of 
dishes  below  deck,  and  knew  that  they  were  eating 
a  meal  to  which  he  was  not  invited;  but  when 
he  had  hoisted  the  dingey — which  he  had  left  to  the 
last  for  possible  use — lashed  it  and  the  other  boats, 
and  rigged  in  the  swinging  booms,  he  descended 
the  fore-hatch,  burst  in  a  door  leading  to  the  gal- 
ley, and  helped  himself  to  what  he  found.  Then 
he  lighted  his  pipe,  noticing  that  his  tobacco  was 
getting  low,  and  walked  the  forward  deck — watch- 
ing and  waiting. 

About  ten  o'clock  a  slight  figure  crept  forward 
in  the  darkness.    It  was  the  youth,  Eugene. 

"All  turned  in  aft?"  asked  Braisted. 

"  Yes,  sir;  and  I  turned  out.  Did  you  find 
something  to  eat?  Heard  you  smashing  things. 
Might  have  asked  you  to  dinner,  at  least." 

"  Haven't  much  use  for  me,  I'm  afraid," 
drawled  Braisted;  "  but  tell  me,  boy,  why  are  they 

29 


Shipmates 


all  so  dead  set  against  common  sense?    I  gave  good 
reasons  for  expecting  trouble  to-night.'' 

''  It's  Lady  Fanwood.  She'll  scald  you  yet,  or 
poison  you.  She  won't  be  told  anything,  and  you 
dared  to.  Fanwood's  a  soft  lunatic,  but  she's  vi- 
cious, and  just  as  crazy.  The  Governor's  all  right 
when  you're  on  to  his  curves,  but  he's  with  the 
powers  that  be,  every  time;  and  the  Flemings  are 
all  right — except  about  'baccy.  They're  all  luny 
on  that  point." 

^^  No  wonder  the  crew  finally  rebelled  and 
quit,"  said  Braisted  with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes,  and  Fanwood  went  through  the  fore- 
castle and  threw  overboard  all  the  old  pipes  and 
stray  tobacco  the  men  had  left.  Then  they  burned 
sulphur  candles  to  fumigate  it.  Crazy — crazy  as 
bugs." 

Braisted  thought  of  his  nearly  empty  tobacco 
pouch,  and  his  reserve  stock  ashore,  wondering 
when  he  would  see  it. 

"  Boy,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  do 
you  or  the  others  know  the  ropes  ?  " 

"  The  Governor  doesn't,  and  I  don't  think  Fan- 
wood  does;  but  I  know  most  of  'em — all  I  could 
learn,  so  far,  in  the  cruise.  Always  wanted  to  go 
to  sea." 

30 


The  Nuisance 


''  Can  you  loose  the  f oretopmast-staysail,  clear 
away  the  downhaul,  and  find  the  halyards — all  in 
the  dark?" 

'^'  Yes,  sir;  I  know  I  can." 

"  We'll  need  that  sail  quickly,  if  we  have  to 
slip." 

"  I'll  help  all  I  can,  Mr.  Braisted.  Shall  I  stay 
with  you? " 

"  No;  go  and  turn  in.  I'll  call  you  all  if  neces- 
sary." 

The  hurricane  found  Braisted  with  his  hand  on 
the  windlass  lever.  It  was  midnight  when  it  came, 
with  no  lightning  or  thunder,  but  with  a  steady 
downpour  of  rain  that  lasted  ten  minutes  and 
drenched  him  in  one.  Then  followed  the  wind,  a 
succession  of  hot  blasts  which  soon  merged  into  a 
continuous  pressure.  As  the  yacht  swung  head  to 
it,  he  let  the  chain  run  to  the  end,  and  dropped  the 
other  anchor,  for  he  felt  what  he  had  feared — the 
jarring  vibration  of  the  deck  which  tells  of  a  drag- 
ging anchor.  Holding  back  the  lever,  he  allowed 
this  chain  to  go  as  fast  as  it  would,  and  in  three 
minutes  a  surging  of  the  windlass  said  that  this 
anchor  had  bit  the  ground  at  the  full  length  of 
the  chain.  But  to  no  purpose;  there  was  no  less- 
ening of  the  tremors  in  the  deck,  and  before  the 

31 


Shipmates 


furious  rush  of  wind  the  yacht  drove  sternward, 
with  her  anchors,  side  by  side,  bounding,  catching, 
and  bounding  again.  Then  there  was  a  sudden  stop 
to  the  vibrations — a  creaking,  grinding,  straining 
sound  from  the  windlass,  barely  distinguishable 
above  the  screaming  in  the  rigging;  then  two  sharp 
shocks,  one  after  the  other,  and  the  chains  forward 
of  the  windlass  dropped  to  the  deck  and  rose  again. 
Both  anchors  had  hooked  to  some  solid  ridge  of 
coral,  and  both  chains  had  parted.  Turning  toward 
the  forehatch,  Braisted  met  the  boy  struggling  up 
against  the  wind. 

"  We're  adrift,"  he  shouted  in  his  ear,  for  the 
sound  aloft  was  now  a  buzzing  roar.  ''  Loose  the 
f oretopmast  staysail  while  I  slip  the  chains.  Stand 
clear  as  they  go  out  the  hawse-pipes.  Hold  on  to 
the  downhaul  till  we're  ready  to  hoist." 

The  boy  answered  and  climbed  out  the  bow- 
sprit. Before  he  came  in  Braisted  had  released  the 
two  ends  of  chain,  regained  the  deck,  fastened  the 
sheet  and  tautened  the  halyards.  Then  they  set 
the  small  sail — an  easy  pull  for  the  boy  in  fine 
weather,  but  a  task  for  Braisted's  giant  strength 
now;  for  the  yacht  had  swung  broadside  to  the 
wind,  and  was  nearly  on  her  beam  ends.  There 
was  no  time  to  flatten  the  sheet.    Both  hurried  aft; 

32 


The  Nuisance 


Braisted  shouted  in  the  boy's  ear  to  stand  near  him 
and  watch  for  the  inlet;  for  he,  at  the  wheel,  would 
be  blinded  by  the  binnacle  light. 

He  saw  indistinctly  in  the  darkness  two  figures 
in  the  after  companionway  as  he  took  the  wheel 
and  ground  it  up ;  and  he  heard  voices  in  question- 
ing inflection;  but  he  answered  not,  and  as  the  ves- 
sel payed  off  and  righted,  bringing  a  flood  of  rain 
and  spindrift  into  the  companionway,  the  doors 
were  shut. 

Braisted  never  steered  straighter;  but,  doubt- 
ful of  a  compass  course  picked  up  after  so  much 
sternway,  he  repeatedly  shouted  to  Eugene,  and  at 
last  was  answered. 

"  There's  a  long  flicker  of  white  ahead,  and  to 
starboard,"  called  the  boy  as  he  came  close,  "  and 
it's  all  black  to  port,  and  farther  over  it's  white 
again." 

"  Breakers  on  the  Barrier,"  he  answered,  shift- 
ing the  wheel.  "  Steady  me  for  the  black 
water." 

"Now  you're  right — steady!"  sang  out  the 
boy,  and  Braisted  met  the  yacht's  swing  and 
steered  the  new  course.  Soon  there  was  a  wild 
turmoil  of  surf,  and  seas  climbed  aboard;  a  tugging 
at  the  rudder,  telling  of  shallow  water,  and  an  up- 

33 


Shipmates 


roar  of  sound  over  which  Braisted  could  just  hear 
the  scream  of  the  boy,  "  Port,  sir! — hard  a-port!  " 
He  obeyed  the  warning  as  he  could,  for  it  seemed 
that  giants  stronger  than  himself  had  hold  of  the 
rudder.  The  yacht  quivered  in  the  undertow  and 
eddies,  then  shook  herself  clear  and  went  on  into 
the  blackness,  while  the  crashing  sound  of  break- 
ing seas  gave  way  to  the  steady  humming  of  the 
hurricane. 

They  were  at  sea,  but  with  the  Bahamas 
forty  miles  to  the  eastward — a  lee-shore  for  a 
hundred  miles  of  northing.  Putting  the  wheel 
to  starboard,  and  lashing  it,  Braisted  watched 
the  craft  steady  herself  nearly  in  the  trough  of 
the  crisp,  fast-rising  sea.  Then,  telling  the  boy 
to  clear  away  the  spanker  gear,  he  opened  the 
companionway  and  descended  into  the  lighted 
after  cabin.  They  were  all  there,  hurriedly 
dressed,  and  they  met  him  with  a  chorus  of  pro- 
test. 

"  Why  do  you  come  down  here,  thir,  all  dwip- 
ping  wet?  "  demanded  Fanwood.  "  If  you  like  to 
thtay  out  in  the  wain,  do  tho,  but  please  have  the 
conthiderwation " 

"  What  has  happened,  Mr.  Braisted? "  asked 
Mrs.  Fleming  anxiously. 

34 


The  Nuisance 


'^  Chains  parted;  slipped  them,  and  got  her  over 
the  bar.     We're  outside  now." 

"  You  slipped  the  chains  after  I  forbade  you? " 
stormed  Mrs.  Fanwood.  ''  Then  I  command  you, 
sir,  to  take  this  yacht  right  back." 

"  Impossible,  madam. — Fanwood,  I  want  help 
on  deck.  The  yacht  must  carry  sail  whether  she 
will  or  not.  With  the  maintopsail,  spanker,  and 
foretopmast-staysail  on  her,  I  think  she'll  skim  up 
the  shore  in  fairly  smooth  water.  The  boy's  a  born 
sailor,  but  he  isn't  strong.  You  and  Mr.  Brimm 
come  up." 

"  JSTo,  I  won't.  Why  didn't  you  wait  for  the 
thailors?" 

"  I  am  unfamiliar  with  what  you  ask  of  me, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Brimm.  ^'  Can  you  not  dispense  with 
my  presence? " 

''  N'o,  I  can  not!  "  said  Braisted  angrily.  '^  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed.  Afraid  of  getting  wet,  with 
women  depending  on  you!  Get  up  on  deck,  the 
pair  of  you!  I've  no  time  or  patience  to  waste. 
Up  with  you!  " 

He  collared  Fanwood,  shook  him,  and  launched 
him  toward  the  stairs.  In  transit,  he  lurched  heav- 
ily against  Miss  Fleming,  who  was  seated,  and 
Braisted  found  grace  to  say,  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 

35 


shipmates 


Miss  Fleming."  Then  he  turned  to  Mr.  Brimm. 
^^  Will  you  go? "  he  asked  in  that  ominous,  high- 
pitched  voice. 

"No,  sir;  I  will  not." 

Braisted  picked  up  a  chair  and  held  it  poised 
above  his  head.  "  I  can  conquer  you  and  carry 
you  up,"  he  said,  "  but,  as  I  told  you,  I  haven't 
time.    Start — quickly — or  I'll " 

But  before  he  could  finish  the  sentence  Mr. 
Brimm  had  scurried  up  the  companionway  and 
joined  Fan  wood  on  deck. 

"  If  I  catch  you  two  soldiering  any  more  to- 
night I'll  have  no  mercy  on  you;  now  clap  on  to 
that  spanker  outhaul,"  called  Braisted  as  he 
emerged  from  the  companionway. 

With  their  united  strength  they  set  the  sail, 
and  when  Braisted  had  trimmed  the  sheet  he  drove 
them  forward  to  flatten  down  the  foretopmast- 
staysail,  which  was  shaking  dangerously  from  the 
yacht's  closer  angle  to  the  wind.  But  it  was  not 
close  enough,  and  the  leeway  was  more  than  the 
headway.  So,  after  pointing  the  yards — ^Braisted 
slacking  away,  and  the  boy  finding  the  lee  braces 
for  the  others — they  set  the  maintrysail;  then 
Braisted  climbed  and  loosed  the  maintopsail,  de- 
scended   to    help    on    the    reef-tackles — for    the 

36 


The  Nuisance 


yacht  was  scuppers  under  now,  and  he  feared 
to  carry  the  whole  sail — and,  with  much  men- 
acing with  a  white-ash  heaver,  haled  the  two 
landsmen  aloft  to  reef.  The  boy  went  willingly, 
but  not  so  the  others.  As  for  Braisted,  the 
spirit  of  the  sea  was  upon  him,  and  he  justi- 
fied himself  by  the  ethics  of  his  old  calling — which 
takes  no  regard  of  personal  feelings  when  work  is 
to  be  done — and  by  the  fact  that  below  was  a 
haughty  and  disdainful  young  woman  who,  when 
he  entered  the  cabin,  had  appealed  to  him — with 
her  eyes — but  had  given  him  scorn  when  he  threw 
Fanwood  at  her. 

On  the  yard  he  did  most  of  the  work,  for  even 
the  courageous  and  quick-witted  boy  was  too  much 
bewildered  by  the  surroundings  to  do  more  than 
knot  reef-points  after  Braisted,  by  main  strength, 
had  passed  both  earings;  and  the  other  two,  though 
they  had  gone  out  on  the  foot-rope  to  escape  the 
proddings  of  Braisted's  heaver,  while  there  had 
surrendered  completely  to  the  terrors  of  the  night 
— the  black  void  beneath,  the  furious  buffeting  of 
wind  and  horizontal  rain,  the  humming  in  their 
ears  which  prevented  their  understanding  Brais- 
ted's  roaring  orders,  and  their  unstable  foothold  on 
a  slippery  rope  which  slanted  at  an  angle  of  nearly 
37 


Shipmates 


forty-five  degrees.  Braisted  pushed  them  along  to 
the  rigging  on  his  way  to  the  lee  earing,  and  left 
them  there  while  he  and  the  boy  finished  the  job. 
Then  they  all  descended,  hauled  home  the  sheets 
with  a  watch-tackle,  and  hoisted  the  yard  by  means 
of  the  windlass. 

With  the  helm  a-lee,  the  little  ship  now  luffed, 
lost  way,  fell  off  and  gathered  it,  swinging  within 
three  points  of  the  compass ;  and  Braisted,  satisfied 
with  her  balance,  put  the  boy — who  said  he  could 
steer — at  the  wheel  to  steady  her,  hove  the  log 
with  the  aid  of  the  others,  and  went  below  to  the 
chart,  which  showed  him  that  if  the  wind  held  as 
it  was  the  yacht's  drift  and  headway  would  take 
her  clear  of  the  outermost  of  the  Bahama  shoals. 
But  what  content  might  have  come  to  him  from 
this  was  nullified  by  the  discovery  that  his  small 
store  of  tobacco  was  ruined  by  the  salt  spindrift 
picked  up  by  the  wind.  He  was  wet,  tired  and 
chilled,  and  wanted  a  smoke.  A  thorough  search 
brought  none  to  light  in  the  sailing-master's  room ; 
neither  was  there  any  in  the  mate's  apartment,  and 
with  a  heartfelt  malediction  on  Fanwood  he  marked 
the  log-book  up  to  date  and  went  on  deck. 

"  Fanwood  and  dad  have  gone  down,"  said  Eu- 
gene, as  he  joined  him. 

38 


The  Nuisance 


''  All  right.  Let  'em  stay  there.  Go  down 
yourself,  boy,  and  close  all  deadlights.  Then 
change  your  clothes  and  get  oilskins  on,  if  you've 
got  'em.  I'll  want  you  on  deck  for  a  lookout.  You 
can  sleep  to-morrow.  Tell  the  women  we're  all 
right,  and  that  they  can  safely  turn  in." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  answered  the  boy,  proud  of 
the  trust  in  him,  as  he  relinquished  the  wheel. 

"  Deadlights  all  closed,"  he  reported  when  he 
appeared,  clad  in  yellow  oilskins.  "  Don't  you 
want  some  dry  clothes,  sir?    Lots  aboard." 

Braisted  did  not.  He  wanted  tobacco,  and 
wanted  it  tenfold  because  he  could  not  get  it.  And 
so  he  suffered  through  the  night  in  his  thin  out- 
ing suit,  for  the  wind  now  blew  cold,  and  listened 
to  such  comment  as  Eugene,  keeping  watch  beside 
him,  could  deliver  over  the  noise  of  the  wind  and 
sea.  Part  of  this  comment  was  upon  the  fact  that  a 
"  fat  fool  like  Fanwood  should  dare  aspire  to  a 
level-headed  girl  like  Mabel  Fleming." 

As  Braisted  had  been  guilty  of  the  same  ambi- 
tion, and  as  fellow-feeling  does  not  always  conduce 
to  sympathy,  his  attitude  toward  Fanwood  became 
such  as  to  frighten  that  gentleman  into  speechless 
and  immediate  compliance  with  his  wishes.  When 
he  appeared  after  breakfast,  and  hesitatingly  in- 

39 


shipmates 


quired  of  the  bareheaded,  bedraggled  and  dishev- 
elled man  at  the  wheel  as  to  the  yacht's  destina- 
tion, he  was  not  answered,  but  was  sternly  ordered 
to  see  that  his  meals  were  cooked,  and  served — ^hot 
— on  the  dining-room  table.  Fanwood  hastened  to 
obey,  and  as  his  mother  virtuously  and  indignantly 
refused  to  cook  for  "  the  brute,''  and  as  Mrs.  Flem- 
ing was  ill  from  the  excitement,  the  duty  devolved 
upon  her  daughter;  but  Braisted  did  not  know  this. 

The  call  to  breakfast  came  from  the  boy  when 
he  relieved  him  at  the  wheel,  and  as  the  naturally 
embarrassed  young  woman  failed  to  hear  and  re- 
spond to  his  half-hearted  "  good-morning  "  when 
they  met  at  the  companionway,  he  ascribed  to 
the  failure  a  personal  animus,  and  thenceforth  ig- 
nored her  presence.  But  he  was  keenly  alive  to 
the  presence  of  the  others.  He  directed  Fanwood, 
under  penalty  of  a  rope's-ending,  to  search  the  ship 
for  tobacco,  and  on  Fanwood's  reporting  later  that 
there  was  none  to  be  found,  berated  him  luridly. 

To  Mrs.  Fleming,  when  she  appeared  on  deck, 
supported  by  her  daughter,  he  deprecated  almost 
pathetically  the  inhuman  tyranny  that  would  de- 
prive a  sailor  of  tobacco,  and  when  Mrs.  Fanwood 
interrupted,  argued  with  her  on  questions  ranging 
from  social  ethics  to  seamanship.     In  this  debate 

40 


The  Nuisance 


he  was  forced  to  yield  the  last  word;  for  the  lady, 
clad  in  a  warm,  though  condemned,  fur-lined  cir- 
cular, suffered  no  diminution  of  her  extensive  vo- 
cabulary, while  Braisted,  weakened  from  fatigue 
and  want  of  sleep,  drenched  to  the  skin,  blue  about 
the  lips,  and  shivering  with  cold,  had  entered  the 
dispute  only  from  extreme  irritation. 

The  boy  came  up  at  noon,  and  would  have  re- 
mained through  the  day,  but  Braisted,  after  an- 
other well-cooked  meal,  sent  him  back,  saying  that 
he  would  need  him  all  night. 

The  wind  had  gradually  veered  to  the  north, 
and  immense  gray  combers  were  coming  down  the 
coast,  lifting  the  small  vessel  to  the  full  pressure  of 
the  blast  on  their  crests,  and  dropping  her  deep  in 
the  hollows,  where  the  becalmed  maintopsail 
flapped  idly  against  the  mast.  The  land  to  the  west 
was  now  a  thin  line  of  blue,  and  to  the  east  a  rising 
island  threatened  danger. 

At  supper-time  Braisted  had  decided  to  wear 
ship,  and  had  taken  cross-bearings  as  an  aid  to  his 
future  reckoning,  when  a  sudden  backing  of  the 
wind  to  the  northwest  induced  him  to  hold  the  ship 
on  the  port  tack  pending  developments. 

At  ten  o'clock  they  came — a  blast  of  icy  wind 
out  of  the  northeast  that  nearly  caught  the  ship 
4  41 


Shipmates 


aback,  and  as  she  payed  off,  a  beam  sea  tbat  threw 
the  little  craft  nearly  on  her  beam  ends  and  occa- 
sionally swamped  her.  It  was  imperative  now  that 
she  be  put  on  the  other  tack,  and,  expecting  trouble 
with  his  crew,  Braisted  gave  the  'wheel  to  the  boy 
and  sent  a  thundering  "  Wear  ship ! ''  down  the 
companionway. 

There  was  no  direct  response,  and  he  de- 
scended. Excepting  Miss  Fleming,  they  were  all 
there.  The  cabin  table  had  fetched  away  and  with 
the  chairs  was  down  to  leeward,  while  in  the  cleared 
space  men  and  women  alike  stood  quaking  in  frank 
fear.  Braisted  drove  the  two  men  on  deck,  voicing 
his  opinion  of  them  in  severe  language,  and  citing 
to  Mr.  Brimm  the  manly  conduct  of  Eugene  as  an 
example  to  recreant  fatherhood.  He  put  them  at 
the  weather  braces,  and  the  boy  to  leeward  to  slack 
away.  Then  by  skilful  steering  before  the  wind 
he  aided  them  in  swinging  the  yards,  attending  to 
the  spanker  himself,  after  grinding  the  wheel  down 
to  round  to.  While  in  this  position — the  ship 
nearly  in  the  trough,  the  spanker  jibed  and  strain- 
ing on  the  sheet,  and  the  wheel  lashed  down — a 
great  gray  wall  lifted  up  in  the  darkness  on  the 
starboard  quarter,  dropped  aboard,  and  washed 
Braisted  to  the  mizzen  rigging,  to  which  he  clung. 

42 


The  Nuisance 


As  the  sea  crashed  over  the  yacht,  a  figure  in  a 
fur-lined  circular,  just  emerging  from  the  compan- 
ionway,  was  also  caught,  upset,  and  shot  head-first 
and  face  downward  half  through  the  bars  of  the 
low  brass  railing  which  extended  from  bow  to  stern. 
Braisted  heard  a  gasping  scream,  and  struggled  to 
the  spot  just  in  time  to  catch  a  firm  grip  on  a  plump 
ankle  before  another  sea  rolled  over  the  ship. 

'^  Take  the  wheel,  boy,'^  he  roared,  "  Steady 
her — by  the  wind." 

He  heard  the  boy's  answer,  and  saw  him 
speeding  aft  in  the  darkness.  Then,  securing  the 
other  ankle,  he  exerted  his  strength,  and  landed  his 
catch,  a  bedraggled  heap,  on  the  deck.  Inserting 
his  fingers  into  the  tightly  buttoned  collar,  he  lifted 
her  to  her  feet,  and  marched  her,  still  choking  and 
gasping,  to  the  companionway. 

"  Now,  then,  old  lady,"  he  shouted  in  her  ear 
as  he  pushed  her  down,  "  I've  saved  your  life. 
Let  me  alone  after  this.  Get  off  the  deck,  and 
stay  off!  " 

Eugene  at  the  wheel  had  the  yacht  under 
command.  Leaving  him  there,  he  trimmed  over 
the  f oretopmast-staysail  sheet,  and  with  the  help  of 
the  others  pointed  the  yards  to  the  wind.  Then  he 
sent  them  down,  complaining  bitterly  of  his  bru- 

43 


shipmates 


tality.  The  yacht  now  took  the  head  sea  easily, 
and  as  Braisted  seated  himself  for  a  few  moments' 
rest  on  the  cabin  trunk,  Mrs.  Fleming  came  up  and 
approached  him. 

"  I  have  been — this  has  come  to  light,  Mr. 
Braisted,"  she  said;  "  will  you  accept  it?  It  is  ap- 
parent that  you  need  it."  She  handed  him  a  pack- 
age of  tobacco. 

"  Bless  you  for  this,  Mrs.  Fleming !  "  he  an- 
swered, rising  eagerly.  "  Yes — thank  you !  Thank 
you  ever  so  much !  I  can  smoke  my  pipe  now.  It's 
nearly  twenty-four  hours  since  I've  had  a  smoke." 

Mrs.  Fleming  went  below,  and  Braisted  lighted 
his  pipe  in  the  galley,  coming  back  to  tell  the  boy 
all  about  it,  and  to  violate  the  traditions  of  the  sea 
by  smoking  at  the  wheel.  Although  the  tobacco 
almost  flamed  in  the  fierce  wind,  and  the  hot  smoke 
burned  the  tongue  of  the  smoker,  it  was  blessed 
tobacco  he  was  consuming,  and  he  was  happy. 
Thus  they  steered,  watched  and  talked  through 
the  night,  cementing  for  life  the  friendship  begun 
in  the  sympathy  of  the  youth,  and  which  only 
their  common  tastes,  likes  and  dislikes  made  pos- 
sible. Braisted,  magnanimous  from  his  victory 
over  the  elements,  was  at  peace  with  the  world, 
even  though  he  had  been  on  his  feet  for  forty-eight 


The  Nuisance 


hours,  and  carried  a  rime  of  white  salt  on  his  hair, 
eyebrows,  and  mustache.  He  called  down  bless- 
ings on  Mrs.  Fleming;  he  forgave  Fanwood — and 
his  mother — and  Mr.  Brimm — yes,  and  the  girl, 
whom  he  loved  in  spite  of  himself,  even  though  she 
had  called  him  a  nuisance. 

"  She  can't,  by  any  possible  excuse,"  he  mused, 
'^  call  me  that  again." 

But  she  did. 

And  though  he  had  forgiven  Mrs.  Fanwood, 
that  lady  had  not  forgiven  him.  The  wind  mod- 
erated before  morning,  and  he  and  the  boy  shook 
out  the  reef  and  put  the  sails  on,  one  after  the 
other.  At  breakfast-time  the  party  came  up,  and 
Braisted,  examining  the  nearby  coast  with  the  bi- 
noculars, found  Mrs.  Fanwood  at  his  elbow. 

"  So,"  she  snapped,  "  I  am  to  get  off  the  deck 
and  stay  off,  am  I?  I  heard  that  much — I  heard 
that,  you  low-bred  rowdy!  I'll  see  if  there  is  law 
in  the  land  for  you!  "  And  down  below  she 
flounced  before  he  could  reply. 

Nor  had  Mr.  Brimm  forgiven  him.  As  Brais- 
ted stood  at  the  wheel  a  little  later,  that  gen- 
tleman, while  the  others  were  out  of  hearing, 
approached  with  emotion  in  his  face  that  had  not 
shown  there  when  being  disciplined. 

45 


Shipmates 


''  There  are  certain  requirements,  sir/'  lie  said 
haltingly,  ^^  in  the  way  of  consideration  for  others' 
rights  which,  of  course,  none  but  a  gentleman  may 
understand.  But  there  is  law  in  the  land,  and,  be- 
lieve me,  sir,  in  spite  of  your  brutal  mastery  of  the 
sailor's  calling,  and  the  service  you  have  undoubt- 
edly done  this  party  of  people,  the  law  is  intended 
to  restrict  such  practices  as  you  are  guilty  of;  and 
if,  by  chance,  we  meet  again,  I  shall  esteem  it 
my  duty  to  my  fellow-men  to  give  you  all  the 
rope  necessary,  and,  when  you  have  convicted 
yourself,  to  invoke  this  law  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble." 

^^What  are  you  driving  at?''  asked  Braisted 
in  amazement. 

"  I  think  I  have  said  all  that  is  needful.  Good- 
morning." 

If  Fanwood  forgave  him,  he  gave  no  sign.  The 
emergency  past,  Braisted  moderated  his  voice  and 
manner,  and  Fanwood  need  not  have  crept  about 
the  deck  of  his  own  yacht,  too  frightened  to  speak 
— of  the  law,  or  other  matters. 

A  meridian  observation  gave  Braisted  his  lati- 
tude at  noon,  and  under  a  smiling  sky  the  little 
yacht  crept  toward  St.  Augustine  Inlet,  picked 
up  a  tug  at  the  entrance,  and  was  towed  up  to 
46 


The  Nuisance 


the  city.  Braisted  and  the  boy  clewed  up  the  sails 
on  the  way,  letting  them  hang  in  the  buntlines, 
and  when  the  yacht  was  docked,  the  tired  man 
sent  a  telegram  for  his  trunk  and  collapsed,  stag- 
gering to  the  sailing-master's  room  like  one 
drunk. 

He  had  been  awake  sixty  hours,  and  so  he  slept 
until  nine  o'clock  of  the  following  morning,  waking 
at  the  sound  of  a  trunk  being  rolled  into  the  room 
by  a  man  who  said  he  was  the  newly  engaged  ship- 
keeper.  He  was  stiff  and  sore  from  the  expos- 
ure; but  a  hot  soaking  and  rubbing  down  in  Fan- 
wood's  bath-room  freshened  him,  and  fresh  cloth- 
ing gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman, 
though  he  may  not  have  felt  that  he  had  earned 
the  title.  As  he  gained  the  deck,  the  ship-keeper 
informed  him  that  his  breakfast  was  in  the  dining- 
room. 

"  The  leddy  heard  ye  movin'  sir,  an'  got  it 
ready,"  he  said. 

Braisted  ate  it  alone,  wondering  who  had 
cooked  it;  then  rising,  and  starting  for  the  com- 
panionway,  faced  Miss  Fleming,  standing  in  the 
after  doorway. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Braisted,"  she  said,  with 
a  tremor  in  her  voice.     "  Mother  is  still  in  her 

47 


shipmates 


room — too  ill  to  rise;  and  the  others  have  gone 
ashore.  There  was  no  one  but  me  to  cook  your 
breakfast.'^ 

"  I  thank  you,  Miss  Fleming/'  he  answered,  as 
he  bowed  courteously.  "  It  was  a  good  breakfast, 
and  I  enjoyed  it.  And  it  must  be,  from  the  fa- 
miliar taste  of  the  coffee,  that  I  have  eaten  your 
cooking  before.''  He  wondered  where  his  old  fear 
of  this  girl  had  gone. 

"  You  had  to  have  food,"  she  said  with  a  little 
smile,  "  or  you  could  not  have  done  what  you  did — 
big  and  strong  and  brave  as  you  are.  And  all  the 
others  but  Eugene  were  against  you." 

"  All  the  others,"  he  repeated  vacantly. 

"  All  but  Eugene  and  myself.  Can't  you  see?  " 
She  advanced,  flushed  in  the  face,  and  nervously 
fingered  the  rumpled  cloth  upon  the  table  before 
her.  "  Can't  you  see  that  I  want  to  be  forgiven? 
I  would  not  leave  the  yacht,  hoping  to  talk  with 
you.  Didn't  you  know?  But  everything  went 
wrong.  I  know  I  made  a  face  when  Mr.  Fanwood 
stepped  on  my  toes;  I  didn't  mean  to.  And  you 
never  looked  at  me  again.  I  never  forgot  your 
face,  John,  when  you  went  away — and  you  never 
came  back.  And  since  then  I've  learned  to  think 
differently  about  some  things. 

48 


The  Nuisance 


"  And  I've  lost  all  my  self-respect,"  she  went 
on,  half  crying,  "  or  I  should  not  be  saying  these 
things.  Yes,  everything  that  I  denounced  in  you, 
except  the  smoking  habit,  I  possess  myself.  I  am 
without  moral  fibre;  I  stole  the  tobacco  from  Mr. 
Brimm's  room.  I  thought  he  might  have  for- 
gotten to  throw  it  all  away;  so  I  went  back  to 
the  gentlemen's  cabin  while  he  was  at  dinner  and 
found  some.  I  feared  Mr.  Brimm  might  suspect 
me,  and  so  I  told  him  that  I  had  seen  you  come  out 
of  his  room.  I  knew  he  couldn't  hurt  you,  and 
that  you  wouldn't  care.  You  don't,  do  you?  He 
certainly  must  think  you  stole  it." 

^'  He  does,"  said  Braisted  with  an  abandoned 
grin,  "  and  threatens  law." 

"  And  then,"  went  on  the  girl,  with  downcast 
eyes,  "  I  came  up  to  give  it  to  you — I  was  going 
to  force  you  to  speak  to  me — and  to  keep  dry  I  put 
on  Mrs.  Eanwood's  circular,  and  I  wouldn't  let  the 
tobacco  get  wet,  so  I  couldn't  save  myself,  but 
you  did,  and " 

"Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  Braisted.  "Was 
that  you?" 

"Didn't  I  look  ridiculous — ^pulled  feet  first 
through  a  fence?  Yes,  and  you  were  terribly  rude, 
and  she'll  never  forgive  you,  for  she  heard  you,  and 
49 


shipmates 


knew  you  thought  that  I  was  she.  Mr.  Braisted — 
please — stop — I'll  call  mother.  I  will.  Please 
don't.    Oh,  you  are  a  nuisance ! '' 

But  the  man  had  got  his  arm  around  her  waist, 
and  kissed  her. 


50 


THE  FOOL  KILLER 


Originally  designed  for  the  use  of  a  wealthy- 
man — as  a  racing  machine — she  had  shown  won- 
derful speed  on  her  trial  trip,  and  this,  with  the 
insolvency  of  her  prospective  buyer,  had  induced 
the  builder  to  offer  her  to  the  Government.  The 
Government  bought  her  and  gave  her  as  foster- 
mother  the  sea-going  battleship  Argyll.  She  was 
about  fifty-five  feet  long,  of  the  very  lightest  con- 
struction, two  thousand  indicated  horse-power,  and 
trial-trip  speed  of  thirty-three  knots,  with  power  to 
generate  superhot  steam  in  cold-water  tubes  in  four 
minutes  from  the  time  a  match  was  applied  to  her 
automatic-feed  oil  fuel.  A  dockyard  made  her  a 
bed  on  the  Argyll's  superstructure,  fitted  her  with 
four  strong  eyebolts  in  which  to  hook  a  hoisting 
bridle,  gave  her  a  turtleback  over  the  bow — ^for 
looks  only,  as  it  covered  nothing — a  closed  conning- 
tower,  a  closed  boiler-room  for  forced  draft,  leaving 
the  tiller  free  in  an  open  cockpit  and  the  tiller 
chains  exposed,  planted  a  torpedo  tube  in  her  stem 

51 


shipmates 


with  a  Whitehead  inside,  and  called  her  a  third- 
class  torpedo  boat  attached  to  the  Argyll  as  a 
tender.  The  Argyll's  crew  hoisted  her  aboard,  and 
later  tried  her,  but  with  her  change  of  trade  her 
good  reputation  left  her. 

A  crew  was  given  her :  Mr.  Felton,  a  junior  lieu- 
tenant, to  command,  a  quartermaster  to  steer,  two 
machinists  to  handle  her  engines,  and  two  trained 
experts  from  the  torpedo  division  to  work  the  tor- 
pedoes. In  a  month  all  were  replaced.  The  oil 
feed  blew  up,  burning  their  clothes  and  their  cuti- 
cle; boiler  tubes  blew  out  and  scalded  them;  tiller 
ropes  parted  at  full  speed  and  she  rammed  a  dock, 
throwing  all  hands  high  and  dry  with  fractures  and 
dislocations;  the  Whitehead  jammed  in  the  tube 
and  the  powder  charge  burst  the  breech,  ruining  the 
lieutenant's  new  coat  and  his  eyesight;  and  finally, 
when  a  sea-cock  opened  of  its  own  sweet  will,  sink- 
ing her  at  the  swinging  boom  in  ten  fathoms,  the 
first  crew  begged  off.  She  was  raised,  refitted,  and 
with  her  second  crew  behaved  no  better;  so  they 
hoisted  her  to  her  bed  on  the  superstructure, 
christened  her  the  Fool  Killer,  and  the  captain  ap- 
pointed Finnegan,  the  ship's  butt,  as  caretaker,  and 
washed  his  hands  of  both;  for  Finnegan  was  equally 
useless.  But  in  his  new  charge  Finnegan  displayed 
52 


The  Fool  Killer 


great  pride  when  sober,  spending  much  time  scour- 
ing her  brasswork  and  puttering  over  her  fittings; 
and  when  he  finally  reported — somewhat  unstead- 
ily— to  the  captain  that  he  had  repaired  all  breaks 
and  made  her  seaworthy  and  shipshape,  the  latter 
gravely  appointed  him  captain  of  the  torpedo  boat 
and  sent  him  below  rejoicing. 

And  with  Finnegan  rejoicing  and  the  ship^s 
company  guying  him  the  Argyll  charged  around 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  the  antipodes,  where  in- 
ternational intrigue  required  her  presence.  Before 
she  arrived  intrigue  had  given  way  to  ponderously 
polite  notes,  notes  to  ultimatums,  ultimatums  to 
requests  for  ministerial  passports,  and  the  world  had 
risen  to  witness  a  war.  But  the  Argyll,  far  from 
her  last  despatches,  knew  nothing  of  the  later  de- 
velopments, so  it  can  hardly  be  considered  her  fault, 
or  that  of  Lieutenant  Felton — officer  of  the  deck 
at  the  time — that  she  blundered  into  a  squadron  of 
the  enemy's  ships  containing  one  battleship  as 
heavy  as  herself.  The  rest  were  armoured  and  pro- 
tected cruisers,  four  in  all,  none  of  which  could 
have  withstood  the  Argyll's  secondary  battery;  but 
the  battleship  was  a  serious  proposition. 

It  would  have  been  unjust  in  a  captain — re- 
sponsible for  his  being  officer  of  the  deck  in  his 

53 


Shipmates 


half-blind  condition — to  blame  Lieutenant  Telton. 
He  had  sent  word  below,  on  the  authority  of  the 
sharp-eyed  quartermaster  at  his  side,  of  the  sighting 
of  the  ships;  and  as  his  superiors — dallying  over 
their  Christmas  dinner,  unaware  of  hostilities  be- 
gun— paid  no  attention,  he  had  reported  again, 
with  the  enemy  five  miles  nearer.  This  ended  his 
duty  under  the  regulations,  but  he  might  have  done 
more  had  he  been  himself.  He  was  not  himself;  he 
was  suffering  keenly  from  doubt  and  regret  and  re- 
morse. He  had  sent  Finnegan — ^poor  old  Finne- 
gan,  beloved  and  belittled  of  all  hands — down  to 
the  sick-bay  with  a  request  to  the  surgeon  for  some 
eye-water  to  relieve  the  pain  in  his  eyes;  and  when 
Finnegan,  smelling  of  whisky,  and  vacantly  for- 
getful of  his  errand  to  the  sick-bay,  was  caught  wan- 
dering about  the  superstructure  an  hour  later,  he 
had  sent  again  for  eye-water  by  a  responsible  mes- 
senger, and  then  learning  that  Finnegan  had  pil- 
fered a  bottle  of  sick-bay  whisky  and  escaped  with 
no  reference  to  eye-water,  Mr.  Felton  had  angrily 
punished  him  by  sending  him  over  the  side  in  a 
"  bosun's  chair  "  with  a  swab  and  a  bucket.  A 
later  sight  of  the  empty  "  bosun's  chair  "  swinging 
against  the  side  had  aroused  Mr.  Felton's  doubts, 
and  a  wholesale  and  unavailing  search  for  Finne- 

54 


The  Fool  Killer 


gan  by  the  whole  watch  on  deck  failing  to  bring 
him  to  light  had  aroused  his  regret  and  remorse. 
The  poor  old  fellow  was  miles  astern,  surely;  hence 
Mr.  Felton's  condition  of  mind. 

But  his  condition  of  mind  was  of  small  im- 
portance compared  with  that  of  his  superiors  when 
they  appeared  on  the  bridge.  Mr.  Clarkson,  the 
executive  officer,  jauntily  examined  the  oncoming 
ships  through  the  binoculars,  Mr.  Ryerson,  the  tor- 
pedo lieutenant,  joked  him  about  his  eyes,  and  the 
captain  listened — pained  and  astonished — as  he  told 
of  the  fate  of  Finnegan;  but  before  a  word  of  cen- 
sure or  comfort  could  come  to  Mr.  Felton,  the  ex- 
ecutive had  shouted:  "Battle-flags!  Look  at 
them!  They're  stripped  for  action!  "War  must 
leon!'^ 

"  Quarters,  Mr.  Clarkson,"  tersely  remarked 
the  captain.  "  IsTo  time  to  strip;  ^^  and  then,  in  a 
kindly  tone  to  Mr.  Felton:  "  I  know  how  you  feel, 
but — there  will  be  more  than  Finnegan.  Remain 
on  the  bridge  as  my  aid.'' 

A  gun  on  the  leading  craft — evidently  the  flag- 
ship— had  spoken  while  the  captain  was  talking; 
and  for  a  short  time  the  battleship  seemed  to 
quiver  with  internal  motion  as  men  sprang  to  sta- 
tions and  machinery  moved.  Mr.  Clarkson,  first 
55 


shipmates 


lieutenant,  went  to  the  forward  turret;  the  navi- 
gating officer  arrived  on  the  bridge,  where,  with 
the  torpedo  lieutenant,  he  belonged  during  an  ac- 
tion; and  Mr.  Felton  entered  the  conning-tower. 
Here  he  was  to  transmit  orders  to  telephones  and 
speaking-tubes  until  the  others  were  driven  from 
the  bridge. 

As  the  captain  had  said,  there  was  no  time  to 
strip  ship  for  action.  Guns  could  be  manned,  com- 
partments closed,  steam  generated  in  auxiliary  boil- 
ers, hose  stretched  out  and  pumps  started;  but  the 
stowing  of  ventilators,  anchors  and  davits,  the 
knocking  down  of  wooden  bulkheads,  and  the 
throwing  overboard  of  the  boats,  could  not  be 
thought  of.  Thus,  high  over  all,  snug  in  her 
chocks  under  the  great  steam  crane  which  had 
hoisted  her,  lay  the  Fool  Killer,  unharmed  by  the 
furious  hail  of  shot  and  shell  which  battered  the 
ship. 

The  initial  gun  was  followed  by  others  from 
the  four  ships,  which  the  Argyll  answered.  She 
was  but  a  mile  and  a  half  away  from  her  enemies, 
and  at  this  short  distance  there  was  hardly  need 
of  range-finders.  Few  shots  from  either  side  went 
wild,  and  the  Argyll  rang  like  a  boiler-shop.  The 
fire  was  from  port  broadsides,  and  the  hostile  squad- 

56 


The  Fool  Killer 


ron  maintained  the  mile  and  a  half  distance  while 
it  circled  at  full  speed  in  a  single  column  around 
the  Argyll,  which,  with  engines  working  just 
enough  for  steerage-way,  turned  slowly  in  her 
tracks  like  a  huge  wild  animal  fighting  for  life. 

But  the  God  of  Battles  was  with  the  Argyll 
that  day.  As  understood  among  her  well-trained 
ofiicers  and  crew,  large  shot  and  shell  fire  were 
never  wasted  on  cruisers.  Thirteen-inch  projectiles 
were  meant  only  for  battleships,  and  the  four  large 
turret  guns  were  trained  on  her  solid-walled  proto- 
type, who  showed  no  sign  of  suffering  as  yet,  and 
replied  with  an  equal  weight  of  metal  against  the 
Argyll's  armour  and  turrets,  while  she  drilled  her 
soft  ends  and  superstructure  with  a  furious  storm 
of  steel  from  her  lighter  batteries.  But  the  Ar- 
gyll's eight-inch,  six-inch,  and  secondary  guns  that 
would  bear  were  divided  up  against  the  three  cruis- 
ers; and  this  comparatively  light  fire  was  the  first 
to  produce  results.  It  was  marksmanship  and 
good  smokeless  powder  that  did  it;  for  when  gun- 
ners can  see  their  targets,  and  can  send  small  shells 
through  sponson  and  turret  apertures  to  explode 
against  the  opposite  walls,  effects  are  complete. 
The  rear  ship  of  the  column,  with  gun-fire  stilled, 
belching  smoke  from  all  ports  and  hatches,  and 
5  57 


Shipmates 


steering  wildly,  as  thougli  from  damaged  rudder 
gear,  reeled  out  of  range,  and  soon  burst  into 
flame. 

Mr.  Felton  sent  the  news  down  a  speaking-tube, 
and  heard  shouts  of  gladness  as  the  news  spread 
in  the  depths;  then  came  an  injunction  up  the 
tube  from  the  ofiicer  at  the  central  station  to 
"  hurry  up  and  finish  the  rest,  as  the  ship  was  a 
floating  morgue  "  ;  and  he  repeated  sadly  the  cap- 
tain's remark,  "  There  will  be  more  than  Finne- 
gan." 

The  captain  and  the  two  officers  had  remained 
on  the  bridge,  sheltered  from  the  whistling  shells 
by  the  double  walls  of  the  conning-tower;  but  now 
the  shattering  among  them  of  the  stricken  star- 
board search-light  induced  them  to  enter  the  tower 
and  close  the  door.  Here  they  learned  the  news 
from  below. 

"  True  enough,  Mr.  Felton,"  answered  the  cap- 
tain, as  with  strained,  white  face  he  peered  through 
an  observation  slit.  "  And  I  can  never  get  accus- 
tomed to  this  killing.  It  is  horrid,  and — and,  too, 
I  am — I  was  a  little  upset.  There,  there!  See, 
the  flagship  is  ablaze !  " 

They  looked,  and  verified  the  assertion;  the 
flagship  was  a  splendid  craft — high-sided  and  sym- 

58 


The  Faol  Killer 


metrical,  fit  to  lead  in  international  parades — but 
surely  doomed  now  for  fighting  out  of  her  class. 
She  had  suddenly  burst  into  a  red  mass  of  flame 
amidships  which  seemed  to  feed  on  steel,  so  fiercely 
it  raged.  And  while  they  looked  the  noise  grew 
quieter;  there  was  less  of  the  boiler-shop  sound  in 
the  clanging  and  crashing  of  projectiles,  and  they 
peered  through  other  peepholes.  The  battleship 
was  still  hammering  them,  but  the  remaining  cruis- 
er, apparently  still  intact,  was  showing  them  her 
stern  and  giving  steam  to  her  engines.  She  was 
wise  just  in  time;  no  greyhound  should  fight  a 
bulldog. 

And  gunners  cheered  while  they  again  changed 
their  aim,  and  soon  wrought  marked  results  on 
the  battleship.  Something — no  one  knew  what, 
though  later  all  the  big  turret  crews  claimed  the 
credit — happened  to  the  two  heavy  guns  forward 
on  board  the  enemy.  They  swung  in  open  bar- 
bettes, not  turrets,  and  were  vulnerable  to  a  burst- 
ing charge  just  above;  yet  it  hardly  seemed  proba- 
ble that  any  shell  exploding  in  the  air  could  swing 
those  two  guns  around  until  they  pointed  to  star- 
board, and  elevate  them  at  different  angles.  This 
much  only  was  seen,  and  that  the  guns  did  not 
come  back.  But  a  broadside  of  eight-inch,  two 
59 


shipmates 


stern  guns  of  thirteen-inch,  and  a  whole  masked 
battery  of  smaller  calibre  guns  were  still  at  work, 
and  demanded  attention. 

With  but  one  antagonist  it  was  wisest  now  that 
the  Argyll  move  faster,  and  Mr.  Felton,  at  the  cap- 
tain's order,  signalled  "  Full  speed  "  to  the  engine- 
room;  also,  to  satisfy  his  misgivings,  the  lieutenant 
asked  Mr.  Clarkson,  in  the  forward  turret,  if  Fin- 
negan  had  reported  at  his  station  there.  The  an- 
swer was  negative. 

Still  maintaining  their  broadside  bearings  and 
an  approximate  mile  and  a  half  distance,  the  two 
monsters  thundered  around  in  a  circle — the  Argyll 
stronger  in  gun  protection  and  efficiency,  but 
weaker  in  side  armour  and  totally  vulnerable  in  her 
ends,  which  were  already  battered  out  of  all  sem- 
blance to  bow  and  stem.  It  was  a  death  duel  for 
one,  perhaps  for  both.  Around  they  charged, 
sputtering  and  roaring  with  quick-fire  and  heavy 
turret  guns.  Little  by  little,  as  gun  positions  be- 
hind light  armour  were  shot  away,  the  port  battery 
of  eight-inch  guns  on  board  the  enemy  yielded  to 
the  marksmanship  of  the  A^-gyll's  gunners,  until 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  or  heard  from  her  but 
the  belching  and  roaring  of  the  two  heavy  after 
barbette  guns  and  the  spitting  shatter  of  her  quick- 

60 


The  Fool  Killer 


fire  secondary  battery.  Then  came  a  moment  when 
a  quiver  went  through  the  Argyll;  and  when  it 
had  passed  there  was  a  stillness  and  silence  that  had 
not  been  there — easily  missed  over  the  voice  of  her 
batteries.  Those  in  the  conning-tower  looked  aft 
through  the  slits  and  saw  yellow  smoke  oozing  from 
midship  ventilators,  then  a  man,  naked  to  the  waist, 
staggering  out  of  a  chasm  that  had  once  been  a 
companionway.  He  reeled  a  little,  found  his  foot- 
ing and  sped  forward,  bursting  into  the  tower  just 
as  the  captain  had  anticipated  his  message  by  a 
trial  of  the  engine-room  tubes  and  telephones. 

"  Engines  both  gone  to  h — 1,"  he  gasped. 
^^Half  the  crowd  are  dead,  the  rest  dying — and 
I'm  alive,  but  I  don't  know  why."  He  was  the 
chief  engineer. 

"But  we've  got  her  whipped!  "  sang  out  the 
navigating  officer  joyously  from  a  peephole;  "  the 
^fter  guns  are  done  for." 

They  crowded  to  look;  the  two  huge  rifles, 
plainly  discernible  at  the  distance,  were  farther 
apart,  no  longer  parallel,  and  her  quick-fire  guns 
were  silent  also;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  flags 
coming  down — the  toothless  monster  still  rode 
along,  silent  and  sullen.  Then  they  noticed  that 
she  was  turning  toward  them. 

61 


Shipmates 


"  Going  to  work  his  starboard  broadside/'  said 
Mr.  Eyerson  in  a  deprecating  tone.  ''  No  good; 
might  as  well  give  np." 

"  He  is  not/'  responded  the  captain,  pale-faced 
through  it  all.  "  He  can  ram — he  is  a  fool  if  he 
does  not.  "We  can  not  avoid  him,  and  we  can  not 
penetrate  his  armour.  See — he  is  steadying  him- 
self for  us.  All  hands  on  deck,  Mr.  Felton.  Give 
each  a  chance  to  swim.     The  ship  is  doomed." 

"  Why — how "  yelled  Mr.  Ryerson  excit- 
edly. "  What  about  the  torpedo  boat?  Can't  we 
get  her  over?     The  Whitehead's  all  ready." 

"  Get  steam  up  in  no  time,"  added  the  engineer. 
"  Let's  get  her  over,  Capt'n.  No  need  for  volun- 
teers. I'm  out  o'  commission — Felton  to  steer — 
you  can  spare  him  now.  Kyerson  to  shoot  the 
torpedo." 

"  Let  me  go,  Capt'n,"  said  Mr.  Felton  anxiously. 
^'  I  can  see  to  steer,  and  I  was  once  in  charge — I 
am  familiar  with  her." 

'^  It  is  sure  death  for  you  all." 

^'  It  is  death  for  all  hands  otherwise." 

"  Boilers  are  intact,"  said  the  engineer. 
"  Plenty  o'  steam  for  the  crane.  Give  us  two  men 
to  ride  down  in  her  and  unhook.  We'll  do  the 
rest." 

62 


The  Fool  Killer 


"  Go/'  said  the  captain  gravely,  "  and  may  God 
watch  you.  Have  you  called  down  for  all  hands, 
Mr.  Felton?  No?  Don't  then.  There  will  be 
gun-fire  again,  and  men  may  be  killed.  I  will 
call  them,  if  necessary.  Hurry,  gentlemen,  and 
God  help  you!  Quartermasters,"  he  added  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel  and  the  signalman  listening 
from  the  staircase  above,  "  go  with  them  and  help 
launch  the  boat;  but  you  are  not  to  go.  Come 
back." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  they  answered,  and  away 
went  the  five — out  on  the  superstructure  and  up 
to  the  "  strongbacks,"  where,  snug  and  serene  in  her 
chocks,  lay  the  Fool  Killer,  unharmed — as  though 
the  mystic  symbolism  of  her  name  might  have  pro- 
tected her.  The  engineer  started  her  fires  and 
climbed  to  the  platform  of  the  steam  crane;  the 
others  rigged  the  steel-wire  bridle  and  hooked  on 
the  heavy  block  of  the  crane  tackle;  then  the  two 
quartermasters  entered  the  boat  to  unhook  in  the 
water  and  hold  her  to  the  ship's  side  until  the  others 
could  man  her.  The  engineer  opened  valves  and 
turned  levers;  the  boat  rose  from  her  bed,  swung 
over  the  side  and  descended,  while  the  two  lieu- 
tenants followed  down  the  shattered  superstructure 
to  join  her;  and  before  she  struck  the  water  her 
63 


Shipmates 


tubes  were  hissing  with  steam  and  the  small-arm  fire 
of  the  oncoming  battleship  was  resumed. 

It  was  a  terrible  fire  at  the  closer  range,  and 
it  was  aimed  low;  for  the  work  on  hand  could  easily 
be  seen  by  the  gunners.  But,  though  they  aimed 
low  enough  to  clear  the  engineer — vociferating 
from  the  crane  platform  to  clear  away  the  after 
bridlehooks  first,  as  the  Argyll  was  still  moving  at 
a  twelve-knot  rate — ^they  did  not  aim  low  enough 
to  hit  the  boat.  They  hit  the  ship  and  laid  the 
two  lieutenants  on  their  backs,  unconscious  from 
the  impact  of  flying  steel  fragments;  they  hit  the 
two  quartermasters  and  killed  them — both  tum- 
bling overboard;  they  hit  the  lower  block  of  the 
steam-crane  tackle,  and  the  boat  finished  her  descent 
by  a  drop  of  four  feet;  then,  as  she  plunged  and 
pitched,  they  aimed  lower  and  hit  the  small  conning- 
tower,  shattering  the  steering-wheel  within,  and 
knocked  off  the  hatch  cover  which  closed  the  deck 
entrance  to  the  turtleback  forward.  And  out  of 
this  hatch,  as  the  little  craft  drifted  astern,  emerged 
a  frowsy  head  followed  by  a  limp  figure  of  uncer- 
tain poise  and  motion.  In  the  half-closed  eyes 
and  in  the  puffed  and  wrinkled  face  were  the 
wonder  and  fright  and  bewilderment  of  a  sud- 
denly   awakened    sleeper.      It    was    Finnegan. 

64 


The  Fool  Killer 


He  stood  up,  turned  around,  and  fell  to  his  hands 
and  knees. 

"  Finnegan,"  roared  the  chief,  climbing  down 
from  the  crane;  ''  Knnegan!  Give  her  steam  and 
bring  her  up  to  the  side.  Turn  the  valve  at  the 
left  of  the  engine — draw  the  lever  half  way — slow 
motion.''  Then  he  joined  the  captain  and  navigat- 
ing officer  on  the  bridge — safe  from  harm  now,  as 
the  other  ship  was  firing  solely  at  the  torpedo  boat. 
The  Argyll  had  ceased  firing  and  the  deck  was 
filling  with  men,  smoke-begrimed,  bloody  and  un- 
clothed; for  with  the  loss  of  the  torpedo  boat  the 
captain  had  sent  the  order  through  the  ship:  "  All 
hands  on  deck — each  man  for  himself — stand  by 
for  ramming." 

It  is  doubtful  that  Einnegan  in  his  muddled 
frame  of  mind  understood  the  order  of  the  engineer, 
for  when  it  was  given  the  Argyll's  guns  were  still 
speaking.  Yet,  somehow,  out  of  his  inner  con- 
sciousness he  knew  what  to  do.  They  watched  him 
crawl  aft  to  the  engine  and  stoop  down;  then  the 
little  craft  shot  ahead  with  a  suddenness  which 
threw  him  backward.  He  had  given  her  full  speed, 
and  she  was  headed  straight  for  the  Argyll's  stem. 
Men  shouted  at  him,  and  he  arose,  scrambled  for- 
ward and  peered  curiously  at  the  wreck  of  the 

65 


shipmates 


wheel  and  conning-tower.  Again  his  inner  self 
must  have  guided  him.  With  a  startled  glance 
ahead  at  the  big  steel  ship  he  was  ramming,  he 
reached  down  and  seized  the  slackened  starboard 
tiller-rope  where  it  lay  along  the  rail,  and  pulled 
on  it,  drawing  the  tiller  hard  over.  The  boat  an- 
swered, and  nearly  hurled  him  overboard  as  she 
heeled  and  circled  under  the  Argyll's  stern,  barely 
clearing  by  a  foot.  The  rudder  straightened  as  he 
dropped  the  tiller-rope,  and  the  torpedo  boat  Fool 
Killer,  at  a  thirty-knot  speed,  rushed  away  to  port, 
straight  for  the  approaching  enemy,  in  the  face  of 
a  fusillade  that  churned  the  sea  into  foam.  And 
then  only  did  Finnegan  seem  to  realize  that  he 
was  under  fire.  He  scrambled  aft,  hurriedly  and 
unsteadily,  and  launched  headlong  into  the  cock- 
pit, which  screened  him  from  sight. 

^^  What  a  death  for  any  man!  "  said  the  captain 
explosively.  "Who  of  us  would  not  choose  it? 
And  it  is  given  to  Finnegan.  Living  or  dead,  he 
will  be  a  hero  before  the  world  if  a  man  of  us 
lives  to  speak  of  this." 

"  No  fear  of  it,  sir,"  answered  the  navigating 
officer.  "  We  will  all  go  down  in  the  suction — too 
far  down  to  come  back — unless — shall  I  order  the 
men  to  jump  on  the  chance  of  swimming  clear? " 


The  Fool  Killer 


^^Not  yet;  they  might  exhaust  themselves. 
Wait  until  she  is  almost  on  us.  I  shall  go  down 
with  my  ship.'' 

'^  I  shall  swim  if  I  can,"  said  the  engineer 
grimly,  as  he  shed  his  trousers.  ''  I'd  rather  be  a 
live  prisoner  than  a  dead  engineer." 

Mr.  Clarkson  and  other  officers  had  joined 
them;  the  men  on  deck  were  stripped;  some  held 
tightly  to  cork  fenders  and  life-buoys,  some  to  dis- 
connected doors,  planks,  gratings,  and  ladders, 
brought  from  below;  but  most  of  them  had  secured 
hammocks  and  removed  the  mattresses.  All 
watched  intently  the  little  craft  speeding  away 
from  them  between  two  high  waves,  and  the  on- 
coming monster,  rushing  to  meet  her  behind  two 
mightier  waves,  and  greeting  her  with  a  rain  of 
small  shot — sixty  a  minute  from  each  gun — ^which 
bored  her  through  and  through,  but  seemed  as  yet 
to  strike  no  vital  part. 

On  went  the  Fool  Killer,  and  on  came  the 
Fool,  on  parallel  tracks  that  would  leave  them  but 
a  hundred  yards'  distance  in  passing,  until,  when 
each  bore  four  points  off  the  port  bow  of  the  other, 
a  vital  part  was  struck.  The  watching  crew  of  the 
Argyll  observed  the  torpedo  tube,  which  had  been 
pointed  dead  ahead  on  the  boat's  stern,  slued  almost 

67 


Shipmates 


squarely  around  to  port  on  its  spindle  by  the  blow 
of  a  projectile;  but  only  the  trained  apprehension 
of  Mr.  Ryerson,  who,  revived,  but  cut  and  bleed- 
ing, had  crawled  to  the  bridge,  took  cognizance  of 
a  little  puff  of  white  smoke  arising  from  the  strick- 
en breech,  and  a  long,  black  spindle  leaping  from 
its  throat. 

"  The  Whitehead's  overboard,"  he  exclaimed 
excitedly  as  he  hung  to  the  bridge  rail.  "  Didn't 
you  see  it?  Didn't  you?  I  did.  I'll  swear  to  it. 
They've  aimed  it  themselves,  and  exploded  the 
breech  charge.  It  may  hit  her.  It  may — it's  just 
about  the  right  angle.  Where's  the  glass?  Watch 
for  the  bubbles." 

Nothing  could  be  seen  of  bubbles  at  that  dis- 
tance; but  it  needed  no  glass  to  see  the  great  ship 
lift  amidships  a  few  seconds  later,  and  to  see  the 
dense  masses  of  thick,  yellow  smoke  and  white 
steam  bursting  from  ports,  ventilators,  and  the  riven 
hull.  Then,  while  she  settled  low  on  her  port 
side,  they  heard  a  thunderous  boom  and  a  rushing 
of  steam  which  told  of  exploded  magazines  and 
punctured  boilers.  Her  gun-fire  ceased,  men  dot- 
ted her  decks,  and  she  came  on  with  lessening  speed 
and  a  perceptibly  lower  bow  wave,  until,  at  a  quar- 
ter-mile distance,  she  buried  her  bow,  lifted  her 

68 


The  Fool  Killer 


stem,  and  dived  to  the  depths,  with  the  air  each 
side  of  her  filled  with  men  leaping  from  her  rising 
stern.  In  the  chaos  of  whirlpools,  bursting  bub- 
bles, heaving  waves  and  wreckage  which  took  her 
place,  could  be  seen  a  very  few  of  these  men  swim- 
ming toward  the  Argyll.  But  they  did  not  swim 
long. 

"  It  is  horrible !  "  groaned  the  captain.  "  We 
can  not  save  them.     We  haven't  a  boat  left." 

He  was  trembling  from  the  reaction  of  feeling, 
and  leaned  heavily  against  the  bridge  rail. 

"  Some  may  reach  us,"  said  Mr.  Clarkson, 
equally  unnerved.  "  We  can  pull  them  aboard. 
And  yet — it  was  the  fate  meant  for  us." 

"  Finnegan's  luck,"  said  the  engineer.  "  FU 
bet  he  isn't  harmed.  It  wouldn't  be  consistent. 
Where's  the  glass?" 

"  I  hope  so,"  answered  the  captain.  Then  turn- 
ing to  a  white-faced  and  bleeding  wreck  crawling 
up  the  stairs  he  said:  ^^  I  congratulate  you,  Mr. 
Felton.     We  thought  you  were  killed." 

"  I  thought  so,  too,  sir,"  answered  the  officer. 
^'  And  I  remember  at  the  time  thinking  that  it 
was  a  judgment." 

"  On  account  of  Finnegan?  "  asked  the  captain, 
smiling  weakly.      ^^  Mr.   Felton,  there  is  an  in- 

69 


Shipmates 


scrutable  fate  behind  all  Finnegan's  actions.  Alone 
and  unaided  lie  has  done  what  the  whole  ship's 
company  could  not  do.  He  has  destroyed  our 
enemy.'' 

"Is  he  alive?" 

"  Yes,  by  Jupiter — he  is/'  roared  back  the  en- 
gineer joyously,  with  the  glass  at  his  eyes.  "  He's 
coming  back!  He's  coming  back!  He's  at  the 
tiller!     Told  you  so.     Finnegan's  luck!  " 

They  could  see  plainly  with  the  naked  eye  the 
little  craft  turning  around  in  the  distance.  And 
soon  they  made  out  the  head  of  Finnegan  rising 
over  the  edge  of  the  turtleback. 

"  But  she's  sinking,"  said  the  first  lieutenant, 
who  had  seized  the  glass  from  the  engineer. 
Then,  after  another  look,  he  continued:  "  She's 
low  down — she  may  run  under  yet." 

He  stepped  down  and  ordered  ropes'  ends,  life- 
buoys, and  ladders  prepared  for  the  rescue  of  Fin- 
negan; and  the  men  responded  with  cheers.  On 
came  the  Fool  Killer,  nearer  and  nearer,  and  slower 
as  she  came,  Finnegan  at  the  tiller  in  the  cockpit, 
the  lapping  water  occasionally  lifting  over  the  mid- 
ship rail,  the  engines  barely  moving,  until  at  fifty 
feet  distance  from  the  ship  she  gently  settled  under 
and  left  Finnegan  swimming.    Twenty  men  sprang 

70 


The  Fool  Killer 


over  with  yells  of  encouragement.  More  would 
have  gone,  but  Mr.  Clarkson  stopped  them.  The 
hero  was  seized,  pushed  and  lifted  toward  the  ship. 
They  punched  him  playfully  and  swore  at  him 
lovingly;  and  Finnegan,  who  had  been  swimming 
well  until  they  reached  him,  was  nearly  drowned 
by  his  enthusiastic  rescuers.  He  swore  back  at 
them,  and  when  they  slipped  a  bowline  under  his 
shoulders  and  men  on  deck  hoisted  him  up,  he  pro- 
tested against  such  unseamanly  treatment.  They 
sat  him  down  on  deck  and  he  remained  there,  look- 
ing about  him  in  pained  indignation  and  bewilder- 
ment, swaying  back  and  forth  in  a  pool  of  water. 

"Finnegan!''  yelled  Mr.  Clarkson  over  the 
noise  of  cheers  and  shouts;  ^^Finnegan,  do  you 
know  what  you've  done?  Do  you  know  you're  a 
hero?" 

"  Whash  matter,  sir? "  he  answered  thickly  as 
he  brushed  his  dripping  hair  from  his  eyes. 
"  Whasha  throw  me  overboard  for,  sir?  Who  hit 
me?  "  (He  felt  of  his  ribs  where  the  bowline  had 
pinched.)  "Whash  all  'bout,  anyway?  Might's 
well  kill  a  man  't  onsh  as  scare  him  to  death." 


Yl 


THE  DEYIL  AND  HIS  DUE 


"  Thank  you  for  coming/'  I  said,  as  I  rose 
from  the  rustic  chair  under  the  tree;  "but  I  see 
there  are  two  of  you." 

"  But  it  is  so  improper,  Mr.  Somers,"  she  an- 
swered demurely.  "  Archie  would  come;  he  does 
not  approve  of  his  sister  meeting  gentlemen.'' 

"  Archibald,"  I  said  sternly — I  could  not  call 
him  Archie,  nor  could  I  call  his  Satanic  Majesty 
Satie — "  I  find  that  I  am  out  of  cigars.  Will  you 
kindly  take  this  dollar  up  to  the  ofiice  and  get 
some?    You  know  my  brand." 

"  Cert,"  he  responded,  gleefully.  He  had  been 
grinning  at  me,  leaning  over  the  back  of  the  chair 
I  had  vacated,  and  now  took  the  coin  and  van- 
ished. 

"  Why  did  you  give  him  all  that  money?  "  she 
asked.  "  You  know  how  careless  and  forgetful  he 
is.    You  might  not  see  it  again." 

"Careless  and  forgetful!  "  I  said,  in  assumed 
6  73 


Shipmates 


amazement.  "  Yes,  Miss  Bronson,  I  know;  but  I 
would  give  much  more  not  to  see  Mm  again.'' 

He  was  a  fat  boy;  more,  he  was  a  whistling  boy. 
The  combination  is  well  known,  and  need  not  be 
enlarged  upon.  Some  at  the  hotel  averred  that 
he  had  no  mind — no  soul.  Others  declared  that  an 
imp  of  darkness  filled  the  place  of  a  soul;  and 
in  this  I  agreed.  But,  as  he  did  not  need  a  soul, 
and  as  an  able  imp  knows  something — ^knows  when 
it  is  not  wanted — I  had  concluded  that  his  soul  was 
a  weakling  imp,  an  imbecile  devil  cast  out  of  the 
lower  regions  because  unfitted  to  remain. 

"  Please  be  seated,"  I  said,  taking  her  hand 
and  leading  her  to  the  chair.  "  You  must  know 
why  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone.  I'm  going  away 
in  a  few  days.  I  don't  know  when  I'll  see  you 
again — as  things  are." 

Perhaps  I  had  startled  her.  Her  face  was 
white  in  the  half  light,  and  she  nervously  with- 
drew her  hand  from  mine  and  grasped  the  arm  of 
the  chair. 

"  You  must  know,  Annie,"  I  went  on,  while  she 
slowly  sank  into  the  seat,  "  that  under  all  our  fun 
and  nonsense  this  summer  I've  been  loving  you 
more  and  more  every  day " 

"  Oh!  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  suppressed  tone  that 
74 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

sounded  reproachful,  if  not  angry,  while  she 
gripped  both  arms  of  the  chair  rigidly. 

"  You're  not  offended,  Annie,  are  you? "  I 
asked,  leaning  over  her. 

Her  answer  was  a  hysterical  little  scream.  She 
bounded  to  her  feet,  sprang  past  my  outstretched 
arms,  and  with  a  gasping  "  No;  don't  touch  me,'' 
sped  into  the  shadows  in  the  direction  of  the  hotel. 
I  followed  in  stupefied  amazement,  unable  to  com- 
prehend, but  stopped  when  I  heard  snickering 
laughter  in  the  devil's  voice.  This  gave  way  to 
plaintive  howls  punctuated  by  smacks  of  an  open 
hand,  and  I  knew  he  was  getting  his  ears  boxed. 

"  For  deserting  her  at  a  ticklish  moment,"  I 
muttered,  with  bitterness  in  my  soul.  "  She's  a 
coquette,  after  all.  Who'd  have  thought  it?  Well, 
here  ends  my  worst  love-affair." 

I  lit  my  pipe — cigars  would  not  do — and  puff- 
ing savagely,  struck  off  through  the  grounds  to  the 
river  road  which  led  down  to  the  sea;  and  there, 
with  the  roar  of  the  surf  in  my  ears,  I  spent  the 
warm  night  in  the  frame  of  mind  which  comes  to 
the  jilted — ^knowing  what  Satan  felt  after  the  He- 
gira.  At  daylight,  as  I  turned  into  the  road  on 
the  way  back,  I  noticed  a  medium-sized  schooner- 
yacht  in  the  river,  with  canvas  furled  and  anchored 

75 


Shipmates 


over  the  shallows.  There  was  no  private  signal 
flying  at  this  hour,  but  I  knew  her — Hooper's  Sun- 
light, back  from  a  Gulf  cruise.  Fervently  envy- 
ing Hooper,  I  passed  on. 

Miss  Bronson — not  Annie  now,  just  plain  Miss 
Bronson,  a  young  lady  I  knew — ^was  not  down 
early  to  breakfast,  but  I  came  upon  her  suddenly 
in  the  passage  on  my  way  out  of  the  dining-room. 
Her  face  became  red  as  the  ribbon  at  her  throat, 
and  her  tremulous  "  Good-morning ''  was  barely 
audible. 

"  Quite  right,''  I  thought,  as  I  repeated  the 
greeting  in  my  iciest  tones  and  strode  on.  "  It  is 
quite  right,  and  proper,  that  she  is  embarrassed  and 
ashamed  of  herself.    My  conscience  is  clear." 

Helped  by  my  clear  conscience,  and  sleepy 
after  my  sleepless  night,  I  dozed  through  the  morn- 
ing, waking  in  time  for  a  late  luncheon  with  less 
pain  in  my  heart  and  head,  but  with  more  of  the 
iron  in  my  soul;  and  after  the  meal,  while  I  talked 
with  Hooper  on  the  veranda.  Miss  Bronson  came 
out  with  her  brother.  She  wore  the  combination 
of  white  and  red  that  I  had  liked  so  well  and 
praised  so  often,  and  in  her  hair  were  flowers  that 
I  had  given  her  the  day  before;  she  was  pale,  and 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  twitched,  while  her  blue 
76 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

eyes  held  a  pathetic  entreaty  that  would  have 
brought  me  to  her  side  asking,  "  "Why?  "  had  noth- 
ing happened;  as  it  was,  it  hardened  me  the  more. 

"  She  naturally  wears  what  becomes  her,"  I 
mused  gloomily;  "  that's  her  business  in  life;  and 
IVe  seen  that  look  on  her  face  when  she  has  lost 
at  golf.''  Then,  fancying  that  I  had  seen  the  same 
look  in  the  eyes  of  a  cat  that  had  lost  a  mouse,  I 
turned  my  back  to  her. 

Her  brother  was  approaching  me;  I  knew  that 
by  the  sound  of  his  abominable  whistle.  And  I 
knew  by  the  cadence  that  there  was  something  on 
his  mind.  He  stepped  between  Hooper  and  myself 
— such  was  his  habit — and  faced  me. 

"  Here's  your  cigar,  Tom,"  he  said.  (Once  in 
a  burst  of  confidence  she  had  called  me  this  name  in 
his  hearing;  he  had  henceforth  adopted  it.)  "  And 
here's  the  change."  He  handed  me  the  cigar — 
fresh  from  the  box,  as  I  could  tell  by  the  touch — 
and  seventy-five  cents  in  money.  Then,  with  an 
expression  of  impeccable  virtue  on  his  fat  face, 
and  his  lips  pursed  for  whistling,  he  turned  away. 

"  Archibald,"  I  said  solemnly,  "  you  spent  the 
dollar  last  evening  and  have  become  honest  under 
assistance  and  compulsion." 

"  Well,  whatcha  kickin'  about? "  he  answered 
77 


Shipmates 


in  the  querulous  tone  of  the  aggrieved.  "  Got  your 
money,  didn'tcha?     Got  your  cigar,  didn'tcha?" 

''  Archibald,"  I  continued,  "  I  forgive  you. 
Allow  me  to  make  over  to  you  this  perfecto.  It 
is  a  good  cigar — easy  to  begin  on — it  will  not  make 
you  sick.  And  this  money,  also;  take  it  as  a 
present.  I  shall  undoubtedly  kill  you  some  day; 
for  you  will  not  reform.  But — we  will  start 
afresh.    You  have  done  me  a  service." 

She  heard  it  all.  The  boy  pocketed  the  gifts, 
marched  down  the  veranda  with  the  high  step  of 
a  rooster  on  a  wet  day,  drew  his  doubled  fist  over 
his  shoulder  as  though  to  hit  his  sister  as  he  passed 
her,  and  disappeared  through  the  ofiice  door.  Just 
within  was  a  candy  counter,  and  here  his  whistle 
stopped. 

It  is  unwholesome  to  strike — no  matter  how 
deservedly — a  creature  you  are  fond  of.  There 
is  a  never-failing  rebound  which  smites  you  the 
hardest.  I  watched  furtively  while  she  stared  fix- 
edly at  some  golfers  in  the  distance,  and  saw  the 
red  spots  grow  in  her  cheeks  and  the  tears  come  to 
her  eyes.  Then  she  turned  and  went  slowly  down 
the  veranda  after  her  brother,  and,  could  I  have 
framed  an  apology,  or  unsaid  my  words,  I  would 
have  followed;  for,  as  surely  as  I  knew  her,  I  knew 

78 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

that  she  had  audited  the  young  man's  accounts ;  and 
as  it  was  not  a  question  of  love  or  pique,  but  of 
common  honesty,  I  felt  keenly  my  position.  But 
there  was  menace  in  those  red  cheeks  which  no 
mere  words  might  soften;  and,  besides.  Hooper  was 
talking. 

He  was  a  big,  jovial,  sailor-like  man  of  about 
fifty,  with  a  wife  as  jolly  as  himself — and  as  small 
as  he  was  big — whom  he  loved  even  more  than  he 
did  his  yacht.  He  had  not  noticed  Miss  Bronson; 
no  man  could  do  that  and  go  on  talking  of  yachts 
and  yachting,  tide-rips  and  a  foul  hawse,  a  lubberly 
crew  that  lost  an  anchor,  and  a  tiresome  lot  of 
guests  who  became  seasick  and  asked  wearying 
questions. 

"  And  theyVe  all  gone  this  morning,"  he  said; 
"  and  the  skipper  has  fired  all  but  three  of  the 
men.  They're  up  here  after  the  new  anchor,  and 
we'll  go  down  in  the  gig  with  the  new  men  he's 
shipped.  Want  to  get  them  into  uniform  soon 
as  possible.  Others  can  float  the  anchor  down  on 
a  scow,  and  take  your  trunk  too.  I  want  a  con- 
genial crowd,  for  once.  I'll  get  Gamble,  if  he'll 
come,  and  over  at  iJ^ewport  we'll  find  more  of  the 
boys.    Then  we'll  take  in  the  cup  races.    What  do 

you  say? " 

79 


Shipmates 


I  had  still  a  week  to  spare,  and  accepted  his  in- 
vitation. While  I  had  doubts  about  Gamble 
and  myself  being  congenial  company,  I  did  not 
advance  the  objection,  as  I  knew  that  Hooper  liked 
him,  and  I  was  anxious  for  any  company  that 
would  relieve  me  of  my  own.  Gamble  and  I 
had  not  quarrelled;  we  had  merely  competed  for 
the  favour  of  the  first  young  lady  at  the  hotel — 
a  practical-minded  miss  with  good  looks,  and  a 
plaintiveness  of  speech  and  expression  that  brought 
men  to  her  feet — ^in  which  contest  I  had  won ;  and 
though  I  had  hoped  that  Miss  Kunyon  regarded 
the  affair  no  more  seriously  than  it  had  appeared 
to  me,  there  was  silent  reproach  in  the  tilt  of  her 
nose — troubling  to  my  conscience — when  I  later 
transferred  my  homage  to  Miss  Bronson,  a  star 
of  the  first  magnitude,  while  Gamble  hated  me  in- 
tensely from  the  first.  Afterward  he  again  be- 
came my  rival  until  Miss  Bronson  kindly  sup- 
pressed him;  but  for  a  time,  deadly  in  earnest,  and 
only  sorry  for  Miss  Eunyon,  I  returned  his  senti- 
ments cordially.  It  was  all  over  now;  and  I  hoped 
that  Hooper  could  get  us  both  away  before  he 
learned  my  fate. 

So,  while  Hooper  attended  to  his  anchor,  I 
donned  my  yachting  suit,  packed  my  trunk,  di- 
80 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

rected  that  it  be  placed  aboard  the  scow  at  the  land- 
ing, and  then  settled  my  bill,  conscious,  as  I  talked 
with  the  clerk,  that  Miss  Bronson  and  her  invalid 
mother  passed  behind  me.  I  turned  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment  and  lifted  my  cap,  willing,  in  this, 
our  last  meeting,  to  make  amends  and  part  on 
good  terms  if  possible;  but  my  silent  greeting  was 
either  not  seen  or  ignored,  and  with  a  sharper  edge 
to  my  humiliation,  I  left  the  hotel,  revisited  the 
scenes  hallowed  by  walks  and  talks  with  her,  pitied 
.myself  immensely,  and  reached  the  landing  at  two 
thirty,  the  time  set  by  Hooper,  in  as  maudlin  a 
condition  as  it  is  possible  for  a  healthy  young  man 
to  be  in. 

Hooper  was  on  the  dock,  yelling  to  hurry.  I 
quickened  my  steps,  noticing  that,  though  the  scow 
at  the  dock  held  five  trunks  and  a  group  of  uni- 
formed men,  there  was  no  anchor. 

''  Anchor  hasn't  come  yet,"  said  Hooper,  "  but 
we'll  go  down  now.  N^o  one  aboard  but  the  cook 
and  steward;  climb  in." 

As  I  followed  him  down  the  incline  to  the  gig, 
I  heard  a  familiar  whistling.  There,  in  the  bow, 
was  Archibald;  at  the  oars  were  four  as  villainous- 
looking  dock  rats  as  ever  robbed  a  tipsy  sailor;  in 
the  stern-sheets  was  Mrs.  Hooper,  smiling  as  ever, 

81 


Shipmates 


and,  beside  her,  Miss  Eunyon,  Miss  Bronson, 
and  Gamble — the  latter  looking  uncomfortably 
moist  and  embarrassed,  as  though  he  also  had 
hurried.  The  mills  of  the  gods  had  caught  us 
both. 

There  was  no  retreat  possible  now,  and,  bound 
not  to  look  like  Gamble,  and  heartened  by  the  sight 
of  the  two  young  ladies — armed  neutrals,  as  I 
knew — laughing  and  chatting  together,  I  swal- 
lowed the  lump  in  my  throat,  saluted  them  smil- 
ingly, and  sat  down,  facing  Gamble — grateful  that 
Mrs.  Hooper  was  a  voluble  talker. 

"  Yes,"  she  began,  after  the  conventional  pre- 
liminaries, "  Hooper  thought  he'd  bring  a  lot  of 
men  aboard — stag  party,  he  called  it — but  I 
thought  different.  I  want  some  women,  and  I'm 
bound  to  have  them.  If  he  gets  more  men  at  New- 
port, I'll  find  more  women.  I  can  chaperone  a 
whole  seminary,  and — by  the  way,  Mr.  Somers,  did 
you  know  that  Miss  Bronson  is  my  niece?  No? 
Strange  she  never  told  you.  She  told  me  all  about 
you." 

Miss  Bronson  flushed  at  this  and  Miss  Runyon 
fidgeted  visibly.  *  ''  And  Nellie,  here,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  I've  known  since  she  was  a  baby — ^knew 
her  mother  at  school  thirty  years  ago — oh,  I'm  not 

82 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

ashamed  of  my  age — and  I  received  the  nicest  kind 
of  a  letter  at  New  Orleans  from " 

"  Mrs.  Hooper,"  interrupted  Miss  Eunyon. 

^^  Shove  off!"  commanded  Hooper,  who  had 
taken  the  yoke  ropes;  and  then,  as  the  dock  rats 
awkwardly  pushed  the  boat  clear  of  the  dock, 
^'  You  men  want  boat  drill  first  thing — you'll  get 
it,  too." 

The  men  scowled,  shipped  their  oars,  and  began 
to  pull,  each  in  his  turn.  It  was  plain  they  were 
not  sailors.  Gamble  and  I  pretended  to  be  inter- 
ested in  Hooper's  harsh  comments  on  their  work, 
and  though  the  young  ladies  were  certainly  an- 
noyed, the  innocent  Mrs.  Hooper  went  on. 

"  You  needn't  protest,  Nellie,"  she  said,  with 
a  motherly  smile;  ^^  you  did  write.  That  is  why 
I  asked  you  aboard  when  Hooper  said  he  was  com- 
ing.    Oh,  I've  been  young  myself." 

''  I  assure  you,"  I  said  in  a  generous  effort  to 
relieve  the  pressure,  "  that  I  am  exceedingly  com- 
plimented if  Miss  Eunyon  spoke  of  me." 

"  I  did  not  speak  of  you,"  snapped  Miss  Eun- 
yon. 

''  Not  you,  Mr.  Somers,"  said  Mrs.  Hooper, 
beaming  my  way.    "  Some  one  else." 

"  Oh — I  beg  pardon,  Miss  Eunyon." 
83 


Shipmates 


Then  I  felt  the  hot  tingling  creep  up  my  cheeks 
to  the  hair  roots,  and  saw  Gamble's  mouth  open  in 
sheer  amazement. 

"  Pull  together/'  growled  Hooper,  busy  with 
his  steering. 

"  And  I  didn't  know  he  was  coming,"  com- 
plained Miss  Nellie,  "  or  I  wouldn't  have  come." 
She  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  Mrs. 
Hooper  understood.  She  gathered  the  girl  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  her.  Gamble  and  I  looked  into 
each  other's  eyes.  In  his  I  plainly  read,  "  She 
means  you,"  and  I  know  that  mine  returned  the 
accusation.  I  had  learned  something;  but  Gamble 
was  not  yet  in  a  reasoning  condition. 

"  I  want  to  go  back,"  moaned  the  weeping  girl. 
"  I  don't  want  to  go." 

"  There,  there,  dear,  never  mind,"  said  the  mis- 
guided woman.  "  It'll  be  all  right.  I  know  about 
these  things;  we'll  be  the  jolliest  party  that  ever 
went  yachting." 

If  Hooper  would  have  only  interrupted  at  the 
right  moment  it  might  not  have  gone  further;  he 
looked  as  though  about  to  speak,  but  the  boy  in  the 
bow  got  ahead  of  him. 

"  Oh,  come  off,"  he  said,  in  his  disagreeable 
falsetto;   "they're  back  numbers,   Mrs.  Hooper 

84 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 


—both  got  it  in  the  neck.  Nell's  dead  sore  on 
Gamble  and  don't  speak  to  Tom  in  public,  and 
Sis  swears  if  I  mention  Tom's  name  again  she'll 
choke  me,  and  she  soured  on  Gamble -" 

"  Archie !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Bronson  in  ago- 
nized tones;  and  then,  with  face  aflame,  addressing 
me,  she  said,  "  I  never  prohibited  your  name,  Mr. 
Somers,  or  uttered  that  threat." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  meant  it,"  said  the  boy,  "  'cause 
he  gimme  your  boodle." 

"  Miss  Bronson,"  I  said,  with  the  calmness  of 
desperation,  "  if  you  will  permit  me  I  will  kill 
him  now.  You  know  I  have  doomed  him.  It  is 
inevitable,  and  I  am  willing  to  hang.  I  can  hold 
his  head  under  the  surface,  and  he  will  suffer  no 
pain.    Drowning  is  an  easy  death." 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  joke,  Mr.  Somers.  It  is 
not  the  time  for  it.  Perhaps  Mr.  Hooper  will  turn 
back  and  land  us." 

"  Not  now,  Miss  Bronson,"  he  answered;  "  not 
until  I  see  how  the  yacht  is.  Only  two  men 
aboard." 

"  I'll  murder  him  if  Somers  don't,"  growled 
Gamble  to  himself;  but  it  was  heard. 

"  Now,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Hooper,  ^^  not  an- 
other word  from  any  one,  until  we  get  aboard  and 
85 


Shipmates 


I  can  straighten  this  out.  Keep  silent,  every- 
body/' 

We  obeyed  her.  Miss  Kunyon  dried  her  eyes 
and  sat  up.  Miss  Bronson  sat  straighter,  and 
looked  at  the  distance.  Mrs.  Hooper  scanned  our 
faces  with  motherly  concern;  Hooper  growled  at 
the  men;  the  idiot  in  the  bow  whistled  cheerfully; 
and  Gamble  and  I  exchanged  furtive  glances  until 
our  right  hands  involuntarily  extended  and  met; 
then  we  gripped  tightly,  in  the  fulness  of  frater- 
nity and  fellow-feeling;  and  before  them  all,  silent- 
ly and  with  grave  faces,  each  looking  over  the 
other's  shoulder,  we  shook  hands,  up  and  down, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  that  detestable  whistle. 

And  so  we  went  down  the  river.  Archibald 
essayed  to  amuse  us  with  comments  on  the  situa- 
tion until  sternly  ordered  by  Hooper  to  "  dry  up, 
or  go  overboard."  Then  he  subsided.  Hooper 
was  palpably  as  angry  at  his  wife  as  was  possible 
in  him,  but  he  vented  it  on  the  greenhorns  at  the 
oars,  becoming  almost  profane  in  his  criticism. 
And  they  replied  in  kind ;  it  was  a  warm  afternoon, 
and  they  made  hard  work  of  the  pulling.  I  was 
undoubtedly  the  happiest  person  in  the  boat ;  for  I 
had  drawn  secret  comfort  from  Miss  Bronson's  hot 
denial  of  her  brother's  charge.    But  my  happiness 

86 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

was  dashed  at  the  side-ladder,  when,  instead  of  tak- 
ing my  politely  extended  right  hand  as  an  aid  in 
stepping  out  of  the  boat,  she  calmly  and  coldly  ig- 
nored it,  taking  instead  her  hand-bag — ^which  I 
had  lifted  as  I  rose — out  of  my  left  hand,  and 
ascending  the  ladder  alone.  Gamble  was  wisier,  and 
Miss  JSTellie's  disdainful  face  warned  me  not  to  re- 
peat the  courtesy. 

Followed  by  Gamble,  I  took  my  diminished  self 
to  the  forward  cabin — devoted  to  men — while  Mrs. 
Hooper  mustered  her  charges  into  the  sacred  after 
cabin — where  no  man  may  enter — and  Hooper 
drove  his  recruits  to  the  forecastle,  to  deal  out 
their  uniforms,  and,  I  fancy,  to  ease  his  mind,  for 
we  heard  strong  language  filtering  through  the  in- 
tervening galley.  Archibald  had  begun  a  tour  of 
inspection  on  deck,  his  surprised  comments  and 
questions  to  himself  as  he  came  upon  the  different 
deck  fittings  coming  to  our  ears  through  the  sky- 
light. These  sounds,  drifting  forward,  ended  in  a 
yelp  and  whinny  of  pain,  and  Gamble  and  I,  who 
had  spoken  not  a  word,  smiled  approvingly  and 
helped  ourselves  anew  to  the  refreshments  which 
Hooper's  well-trained  steward  had  provided.  Then 
Hooper's  heavy  step  sounded  above,  and  he  came 
down  the  companion. 

87 


Shipmates 


''  Steward,  give  me  a  high-ball — quick/'  he 
called.  "  Great  smoke,  boys,  what  a  job!  But  I've 
a  skipper  who'll  make  sailors  of  them.  Say,"  he 
said  to  us  as  he  sat  down,  "  something's  up  with  this 
crowd.  Don't  know  what,  and  it  don't  matter. 
Mrs.  Hooper's  made  a  mess  of  things  for  once,  evi- 
dently. Wouldn't  have  that  cub  aboard  for  any 
money.  Caught  him  unlocking  the  windlass. 
Asked  me  if  it  made  the  boat  go.     Told  him  yes. 

Now,  I'm  d d  sorry  for  this  mix,  boys,  but  lay 

low,  and  I'll  take  'em  ashore  when  the  men  come 
down.  Wouldn't  take  a  boat  up  to  any  dock  with 
this  gang  I've  shipped." 

"  No,  no.  Hooper,"  I  said.  "  Mrs.  Hooper  in- 
vited them,  and  of  course  they  didn't  expect  to  see 
us.  The  boy  described  us  correctly — back  num- 
bers. Let  them  stay  aboard  and  enjoy  the  trip. 
Gamble  and  I  will  escape." 

"  Boys,  I  can't  do  that,"  he  answered  in  some 
embarrassment;  but  Gamble  joined  me,  and  we 
argued  him  down. 

"  Well,  we'll  wait  for  developments  in  the 
after  cabin,"  he  finally  said.  ^'  Perhaps  Mrs.  Hoop- 
er can  straighten  this  out,  but  I  wouldn't  attempt 
it.  Meanwhile,  suppose  we  get  into  the  gig  with 
our  new  men  and  go  over  to  the  beach  for  a  swim 

88 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 


until  the  others  come  down;  then  we'll  know  who 
goes  ashore." 

We  gladly  agreed.  There  were  no  bathing 
suits  in  the  yacht,  but  Hooper  averred  that  we 
would  not  need  them.  "  There's  a  famous  beach 
across  the  bay,"  he  said,  "and  not  a  soul  lives 
within  sight  of  it." 

Archibald  would  have  accompanied  us,  even  in 
the  face  of  my  warm  invitation — delivered  from 
the  stern-sheets  of  the  boat  as  he  stood  at  the  rail — 
to  "  come  along  and  be  drowned,"  and  the  ostenta- 
tious display  of  a  hangman's  noose  which  Gamble 
tied  in  the  end  of  the  yoke  rope.  But  Hooper,  the 
last  to  enter  the  boat,  shook  his  finger  impressively 
in  Archibald's  face,  and  admonished  him  to  take 
good  care  of  the  yacht  and^lSie  ladies;  he  was  to  be 
captain  until  Captain  Moore  returned  in  the  scow; 
if  pirates  attacked  the  yacht  he  was  to  fight  them 
off,  and  if  any  escaped  he  was  to  pursue  them;  if  the 
cook  and  steward  mutinied  he  was  to  hang  them 
at  the  end  of  the  main  boom.  All  of  which  Archi- 
bald listened  to,  open-eyed  and  open-mouthed. 

Before  we  shoved  off,  Mrs.  Hooper  appeared 
above  us  and  eyed  Gamble  and  myself  severely. 

"  What  have  you  two  been  doing  to  my  girls?  " 
she  asked.  "  They  won't  talk  about  you — to  me. 
7  89 


Shipmates 


They're  down  there  with  their  arms  about  each 
other,  and  all  I  can  get  out  of  them  is  that  they 
want  to  go  ashore.  If  either  of  you  have  been 
talking  about  one  to  the  other,  it'll  all  come  out 
now.     They're  comparing  notes." 

I  was  guiltless  of  this  crime  and  Gamble  de- 
clared his  innocence — in  thought  and  word;  then, 
with  Hooper  grinning  and  the  four  new  men  mut- 
tering, we  got  away. 

"  Please  assure  them,  Mrs.  Hooper,"  I  called 
back  with  all  the  dignity  I  had  left,  "  that  they 
need  not  go  ashore  on  our  account — that  Mr.  Gam- 
ble and  myself  intend  to  relieve  them  of  our  pres- 
ence soon  as  is  possible." 

It  was  a  long,  hard  pull  for  those  undisciplined 
dock  rats,  sweltering  in  their  blue  uniforms  under 
the  hot,  afternoon  sun;  and  before  we  had  left  the 
river  they  were  frankly  mutinous.  Then  came  a 
mile  of  choppy  water — a  deep  but  narrow  bay  to 
the  right  of  the  river,  on  the  opposite  side  of  which 
was  the  sandy  beach ;  and  in  this  choppy  water  the 
men  caught  crabs,  splashed  us,  and,  in  general,  so 
exasperated  Hooper  that  he  declared  his  intention 
of  paying  them  off  that  evening.  Which  was  cer- 
tainly unwise;  for  no  sooner  were  we  undressed 
and  out  to  a  good  swimming  depth  than   they 

90 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

bundled  our  clothing,  to  the  last  wilted  collar,  into 
the  boat,  launched  it  with  snarls  and  curses,  and 
with  two  pulling  and  two  standing  erect,  threat- 
ening our  heads  with  the  oars,  passed  by  us  heading 
back  to  the  river.  Hooper  had  caught  the  gun- 
wale, but  a  pistol  shoved  into  his  face  caused  him 
to  let  go.  Then  all  four  bent  to  the  oars,  and  we 
swam  in. 

"  Come  along,"  gasped  Hooper,  purple  with 
rage,  "  around  the  beach — the  women — cook  and 
steward  are  no  good — those  devils  have  guns." 

"We  started  for  the  yacht — around  that  four- 
mile  horseshoe  of  alternate  sand  and  pebbles — 
though  I  wondered  as  I  ran  what  we  would  do 
when  we  got  there.  There  were  a  passenger  steamer 
and  a  large  steam  yacht  about  a  mile  out,  and 
occasional  openings  in  the  trees  inland  showed  up 
farm-houses  and  summer  hotels.  If  any  binoculars 
were  turned  our  way,  their  holders  must  have  been 
surprised  if  not  scandalized  at  seeing  three  naked 
men  in  such  an  unseemly  hurry.  And  how  would 
Mrs.  Hooper  and  the  girls  regard  us — even  in  the 
role  of  rescuers? 

Hooper  was  an  athlete,  and  in  spite  of  his  age 
and  size,  easily  distanced  us.  He  stopped  once, 
pointed  at  the  boat  disappearing  behind  the  point, 

91 


shipmates 


and  then  at  a  blackening  of  the  sky  inland,  from 
which  forked  lightning  was  shooting,  sang  out 
hoarsely  to  "  hurry  up,"  and  sped  on.  We  under- 
stood; the  yacht  was  riding  to  a  small  anchor,  and 
was  in  danger  from  the  elements,  if  not  from  the 
thieves.  Gamble  and  myself  were  evenly  matched, 
and  panted  and  puffed  in  company,  and  in  spite  of 
our  sore  feet — bruised  and  cut  by  the  stones — broke 
all  our  previous  records ;  but  before  we  had  reached 
the  neck  of  woods  bordering  the  river  road  Hooper 
was  long  out  of  sight,  and  the  squall  had  come — 
pelting  us  with  warm,  horizontal  rain.  "  Good!  " 
grunted  Gamble;  "it'll  keep  the  women  below 
decks."  Though  fully  as  modest  as  he,  I  but  partly 
concurred.  The  wind  was  down  the  river,  and  if 
the  anchor  dragged  it  would  drag  downhill. 

'  We  crossed  the  river  road  at  an  angle,  luckily 
meeting  no  one,  struck  into  the  bushes,  and  reached 
the  bank  abreast  of  where  the  yacht  should  be — but 
was  not.  She  was  below  us,  drifting  broadside  to, 
and  we  had  arrived  just  in  time  to  see,  through  the 
thick  smudge  of  rain.  Hooper  clambering  up  the 
bobstays.  There  was  no  one  on  deck,  and  sick  with 
fear  of  what  might  have  happened,  I  yelled  "  Come 
on,"  and  we  raced  down  the  bank.  As  we  caught 
up  to  the  yacht  we  noticed  empty  hawse-pipes,  and 

92 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

knew  that  the  chain  had  either  parted  at  the  wind- 
lass, or  had  been  slipped.  Then,  a  glance  seaward 
showed  us  the  gig  with  the  four  men  pulling  hard 
to  reach  the  shore  at  the  left  of  the  river  mouth, 
but  unavailingly  in  the  fierce  wind.  They  were 
blowing  to  sea.  A  quarter  mile  below  the  yacht 
we  dived  in,  swam  frantically,  and  barely  caught 
the  bobstays  as  she  came  down.  Resting  a  moment 
— for  we  were  exhausted — we  climbed  up,  paused 
at  the  rail  until  sure  of  an  empty  deck,  tumbled 
inboard,  and  shot  down  the  forecastle  hatch,  where 
we  found  Hooper  and  the  boy.  Hooper  was  still 
purple-faced,  and  the  boy's  fat  countenance  showed 
signs  of  recent  mental  agitation. 

''  What's  happened?  "  I  gasped,  as  I  sank  upon 
a  locker. 

"  Women  are  all  right,"  he  answered.  "  Locked 
themselves  in  the  after  cabin.  Forecastle's  gutted 
— skipper's  room  gutted — steward  and  cook  are 
robbed — forward  cabin's  cleaned  out — everything 
portable — every  rag,  bag,  and  blanket  taken  into 
that  gig  and  being  blown  to  sea  and  we  after  them. 
And  this  boy — this  bright,  brave,  charming,  lovable 
boy — hid  with  the  women  folks,  and  then  slipped 
the  chain  to  make  the  boat  go  after  the  pirates." 
With  his  hands  upon  his  knees,  he  glowered  at  the 

93 


Shipmates 


youth  and  leaned  toward  him,  and  Archibald 
shrunk  away.  One  ear  was  larger  than  the  other, 
and  very  red ;  but  it  was  not  a  blush.  I  think  that 
Hooper  had  laid  violent  hands  upon  him. 

"  "Well,  how'd  I  know  your  old  boat  wouldn't 
go?  "  he  piped.  "  You  told  me  I  was  captain.  You 
told  me  that  thing  upstairs  made  her  go.  You 
told  me  to  chase  pirates — and  they're  pirates,  ain't 
they?     All  your  own  fault." 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  your  people,  I'd  throw  you 
overboard,"  said  Hooper. 

"  But  the  cook  and  steward?  "  I  asked.  "  What 
have  they  been  doing?  '^ 

"  Ashore  in  the  dingey — gone  up  to  a  farm- 
house after  milk  and  butter.  I  wouldn't  have  per- 
mitted it;  but  Mrs.  Hooper's  only  a  woman — a 
good-natured,  blundering  fool  woman.  Boys, 
we've  got  to  get  sail  on  the  yacht  and  tack  back 
and  forth  until  this  blows  out." 

"What — as  we  are?"  I  asked,  aghast  at  the 
prospect. 

"  Just  as  we  are,"  he  said,  firmly,  "  and  quickly, 
too."  An  increase  of  wind  was  apparent  in  the 
sounds  from  above ;  and  it  gave  force  to  his  words. 

"  Not  by  a  jugful,"  I  said  emphatically.  "  One 
of  us  can  strip  Archibald." 

94 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

"What'U  he  wear,  then?  We'll  need  him, 
too." 

"  Will  you  keep  the  ladies  locked  up? "  asked 
Gamble,  as  agitated  as  myself. 

"  Of  course.  But  say,  let's  draw  on  them — 
something  to  cover  us — a  dress,  a  skirt,  a  night- 
gown— any  old  thing.  I'll  see  what  they've 
got." 

He  went  aft  by  way  of  the  galley  to  consult 
through  locked  doors;  and  Gamble  and  myself,  six- 
footers  and  broad  in  proportion,  mutely  scanned 
each  other's  dimensions — busy  with  the  same 
thought,  I  know.  We  were  thinking  of  those 
slim  waists  aft,  and  the  slimmer  prospect  of  being 
covered  by  anything  which  fitted  them — except, 
possibly,  the  last-named  garment — which  was  mani- 
festly too  preposterous  to  be  considered. 

''  We  might  turn  a  dress  around,"  stuttered 
Gamble,  '^  and  put  another  on  over  it." 

"  Of  course,"  I  answered  scornfully;  "  and  put 
two  shirt-waists  on — one  in  front  and  one  behind 
and  sew  up  the  sides.  With  time  enough  for  that 
we  could  make  shirts  and  trousers." 

Gamble  subsided  helplessly,  and  soon  Hooper 
appeared. 

"Here,"  he  said  as  he  unloaded  an  armful. 
95 


shipmates 


''  Here  are  three  mackintoshes — no  sleeves,   just 
armholes  and  a  cape.     Get  into  'em,  quick.'' 

We  tried  them  on.  At  each  waist  line  and  be- 
low they  would  button  across;  but  above  were  three 
white  triangles  of  uncovered  masculinity. 

"  Won't  do,"  I  groaned  wildly.  "  Go  get 
something  else." 

"  Turn  'em  upside  down,"  cried  Hooper  excit- 
edly; for  the  sounds  above  were  ominous.      "  Stick 
your  legs  through,  and  cut  armholes  in  the  bottom. 
We'll  sew  them  on.      Where's   there   a  knife? 
Archibald,  give  me  your  knife." 

With  the  boy's  knife  he  cut  and  slashed,  and 
again  we  tried.  It  was  a  tight  squeeze,  but  when 
buttoned  up,  and  laced  around  our  necks  with  a 
length  of  spun-yarn,  and  bound  in  the  middle  by 
a  '^  soul-and-body  lashing  "  of  the  same,  the  gar- 
ments screened  us  from  all  but  the  harshest  criti- 
cism; and  in  this  regard  they  were  even  better  than 
bathing  suits,  for  the  dangling  capes  reached  to  our 
ankles,  and  the  rear  elevation  was  entirely  blank- 
eted. Then,  when  Hooper  had  impressively  cau- 
tioned Archibald  to  keep  the  knife — the  only  one 
aboard — in  his  pocket — the  only  pocket  aboard — 
ready  for  use  at  any  time,  we  went  on  deck.  Archi- 
bald remained  below,  however,  and  we  heard  his 

96 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

contented  whistle  drifting  aft  through  the  galley 
as  we  ascended.  No  danger,  except  the  danger  of 
physical  pain,  could  disturb  this  youth. 

The  shore  was  hidden.  Darkness  was  closing 
down,  and  nothing  but  a  circular  patch  of  angry 
water  of  which  the  yacht  was  the  centre  could  now 
be  seen.  Sea  and  sky  were  merged,  and  above  was 
a  hollow  hemisphere  of  gray,  of  no  great  dimen- 
sions, from  one  side  of  which  came  a  driving  pres- 
sure of  wind  and  a  furious  bombardment  of  rain 
and  spindrift,  while  in  our  ears  was  the  humming, 
roaring,  singing  sound  of  the  wind  in  the  rigging. 
The  yacht  was  heeled — starboard  side  to  the  blast — 
and,  short  as  had  been  the  time  for  it,  vicious  waves 
were  already  pounding  her.  We  were  clear  of  the 
river,  and  at  sea.  Gamble  and  I  were  yachtsmen, 
and  knew  the  ropes.  Under  Hooper's  directions 
we  loosed  the  staysail,  jib,  and  mainsail,  putting  a 
double  reef  in  the  latter,  and  with  Archibald  hold- 
ing slack  (for  Hooper  had  brazenly  entered  the 
ladies'  cabin  and  brought  him  up  by  his  sorest  ear) 
we  hoisted  the  canvas  and  trimmed  sheets  to  port. 
Then  Hooper  lighted  the  binnacle,  and  as  he  took 
the  wheel,  shouted  in  our  ears: 

"  Wind's  a  little  west  of  north.  We're  about 
five  miles  east  of  Watch  Hill  light.     We'll  make 

97 


shipmates 


hourly  tacks  parallel  with  the  shore.  Variation's 
about  ten  degrees  westerly  here,  and  it'll  be  due 
west-sou'west  on  one  tack,  east-nor'east  on  the 
other — allowing  for  two  points  leeway,  due  west 
and  nor'east.  Go  down  and  tell  the  women  we're 
all  right,  and  to  fix  up  some  sandwiches." 

"No,"  I  yelled;  "I'll  send  Archibald." 

But  Archibald  had  already  descended,  and 
Gamble  also  refused  to  go. 

"  Go  yourself.  You're  married.  Hooper,"  he 
vociferated.     "  Go  down  yourself." 

So  Hooper,  who  had  no  shame,  went  down  the 
companionway  while  I  steered,  and  when  he  came 
up,  the  boy  came  with  him — howling. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  bawled  Hooper,  with  his 
hand  on  his  collar,  "  you're  to  stay  on  deck  here 
and  do  as  you're  told.  You're  to  get  wet  to  the 
skin,  and  possibly  catch  your  death,  and  die;  but 
until  you  die,  you're  to  stay  around  where  we  can 
get  that  knife — ^understand?  Keep  that  knife 
handy." 

"  I  won't,"  he  screamed.  "  It's  my  knife. 
I'll  tell  my  father." 

He  wriggled  unavailingly  while  the  knife  was 
being  twisted  from  his  pocket;  and  when  Hooper 
had  shaken  him  vigorously  and  sat  him  down  hard 

98 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

on  the  slanting  deck,  he  wept  convulsively,  and 
called  us  all  kinds  of  had  names.  It  was  really  com- 
forting to  hear  him  weep,  to  such  a  point  had  his 
porcine  offensiveness  brought  me.  Hooper  placed 
the  knife  on  the  skylight,  and  coming  close  to  us 
said:  "  Port  side  on  the  lower  sash  under  the  grat- 
ing; we'll  know  where  it  is  now,  if  we  want  it." 

Sandwiches  and  coffee  were  passed  into  the  fore- 
castle and  we  supped  hungrily;  then,  as  we  sailed 
on,  we  looked  for  Watch  Hill  light;  but  no  light 
as  much  as  a  mile  away  could  be  seen  through  that 
thick  smudge,  and  at  the  end  of  an  hour  we  put 
about,  steering  back  on  the  magnetic  course — 
northeast.  In  another  hour  came  a  lull,  and  a 
partial  clearing  of  the  blinding  rain,  but  we  saw 
no  lights,  and  again  tacked  ship  and  headed  west. 
But  no  sooner  were  sheets  trimmed  down  than 
from  the  blackness  on  the  weather  quarter  came  a 
whistling  blast  that  nearly  whipped  the  masts  out, 
and  I  at  the  wheel  barely  succeeded  in  bringing 
the  yacht,  lee  rail  buried,  and  trembling  like  a 
frightened  animal,  up  to  the  wind.  Then  the  com- 
panion doors  burst  open  and  three  figures  appeared 
and  clung  to  the  binnacle,  the  reflection  from  which 
illumined  me  like  a  vision;  and  I  shivered,  but  not 
from  cold;  it  was  a  warm  night. 

99 


Shipmates 


"  What  is  it?  "  cried  Mrs.  Hooper.  "  Where's 
Hooper?  "  Hooper  just  then  appeared  and  glanced 
at  the  compass.  "  Hooper,  I  will  not  stay  down 
there  to  drown  like  a  rat.  I  don't  care  what  you've 
got  on." 

''  All  right,  Mollie — stay  up.  Take  the  wheel, 
if  you  like.  Keep  her  shaking.  We've  got  to  reef 
down.  Only  a  shift  of  wind  and  a  puff;  but  I  don't 
like  it.     Girls,  better  go  below." 

But  they  would  not;  they  clung  to  the  binnacle 
and  stared  wildly  at  me;  so  Hooper  passed  a  few 
turns  of  rope  about  them  and  went  forward  to  slack 
the  halyards,  while  Mrs.  Hooper — a  competent 
helmswoman — relieved  me  at  the  wheel,  and  Gam- 
ble, hiding  his  face,  sneaked  out  of  the  darkness,  to 
join  me  at  the  main-sheet  in  that  harrowing  illu- 
mination from  the  binnacle.  When  Hooper  came 
aft  to  help,  a  rippling  duet  of  laughter  sounded 
over  the  gale;  the  lady  at  the  wheel  joined  in,  and 
we  three  unfortunates  tugged  at  the  sheet,  and 
listened,  and  suffered.  Afterward  Mrs.  Hooper 
stoutly  maintained  that  it  was  simply  hysterics,  but 
I  never  quite  believed  it,  even  though  Miss  Bronson 
had  given  voice  to  a  piercing  scream  when  I 
climbed  the  sheet  and  seated  myself  astride  the 
boom  to  pass  the  reef -earing;  for  I  have  noticed 
100 


The  Devil  and.  his  Due 

that  they  will  laugh  at  our  direst  trouble,  and  in 
this  ease,  most  certainly,  no  hysterics  were  needed. 

While  on  the  boom  I  saw,  dimly  in  the  dark- 
ness, the  fat  figure  of  Archibald  hovering  over  the 
skylight,  but  in  the  excitement  forgot  his  affection 
for  his  knife,  and  did  not  speak  of  it.  The  reefing 
done  and  the  sail  hoisted.  Hooper  induced  the 
ladies  to  go  down,  and  I  again  took  the  wheel, 
noticing  that  the  yacht,  which  had  been  heading 
northwest  by  the  compass  when  we  began  reefing, 
now  headed  about  west — her  original  course — 
though  still  close-hauled.  Mrs.  Hooper  had  kept 
her  by  the  wind,  as  directed. 

"  Wind's  back  again,"  said  Hooper  when  I  called 
his  attention  to  it.  "  It's  a  bad  sign — means  worse 
weather.  We'll  make  a  two-hour  stretch  this  time. 
I  want  to  pick  up  Watch  Hill  light,  and  know  where 
I  am." 

But  the  wind — which  had  now  become  a  furi- 
ous gale — veered  steadily  until  it  again  blew  from 
the  weather  quarter;  so  we  slackened  sheets,  and 
sailed  faster,  while  a  heaving  sea  made  steering 
difficult.  This  sea  puzzled  Hooper,  an  expert  in 
such  matters.  "  It's  as  though  it  came  in  from  the 
broad  Atlantic,"  he  said,  "  and  we're  on  a  weather 
coast.  Ought  to  have  fairly  smooth  water." 
101 


Shipmates 


Before  I  could  reply  there  came  a  shock,  and 
a  crash,  and  violent  vibration  of  the  hull;  then  the 
two  topmasts  fell  to  leeward — snapping  short  at 
the  caps  and  leaving  the  lower  masts  standing — 
and  the  next  sea  swept  the  yacht.  We  were 
ashore. 

Gamble  and  the  boy  were  amidships,  clinging 
to  the  fife-rail,  but  Hooper  and  myself  were  thrown 
to  the  lee  main  rigging,  where  we  clutched  the 
bights  of  ropes  and  saved  ourselves.  Before  we 
could  regain  our  footing,  however,  another  sea 
crashed  over  the  craft  from  squarely  abeam,  and 
I  heard  a  cry  of  pain  from  Hooper. 

"  Bm  hurt,"  he  gasped.  "  Look  out  for  the 
women,  Somers.  Keep  'em  below  decks — they'll 
be  washed  overboard." 

I  scrambled  for  the  companionway,  and  met 
another  sea  which  hurled  me  back  to  the  rail.  Be- 
fore I  could  recover  I  saw  a  slight  figure  emerge 
from  below. 

"  Go  back!  "  I  shouted.  '^  Don't  come  up  yet. 
Go  back  again." 

The  figure  swayed  unsteadily  on  the  reeling 
deck,  and  half  turned;  then  a  larger  sea  board- 
ed the  yacht,  and  I  heard  her  scream.  Then, 
half-buried  as  I  clung  to  the  rail,  I  saw  her 
102 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

swept  past,  high  over  my  head,  and  heard  the 
scream  repeated  in  the  receding  hollow  to  lee- 
ward. 

ITot  knowing  which  of  the  three  it  was — only- 
knowing  that  it  resembled  Annie  Bronson,  I  fol- 
lowed, and  when  I  raised  my  head  out  of  that  black 
water,  the  yacht  was  an  undefined  blur  in  the  dark- 
ness, fifty  feet  to  windward,  and  I  was  alone  with 
the  merciless  sea. 

"  Annie ! "  I  called,  when  I  could  speak. 
"  Annie,  Annie — where  are  you?  " 

There  was  no  answer,  and  the  desolation  of 
death  gripped  my  heart.  Not  until  then  had  I 
realized  that  I  needed  this  girl  more  than  life;  and 
not  caring  to  live  if  she  died,  I  swam  blindly  in 
the  darkness — away  from  the  yacht. 

^^  Annie!''  I  called  repeatedly.  "Answer. 
Can  you  hear?" 

There  was  an  answer  from  the  right — a  chok- 
ing sound;  and  I  swam  that  way,  in  spite  of  my 
embarrassing  drapery  making  such  headway  that  I 
drove  her  under  before  knowing  that  I  had  reached 
her;  but  I  lifted  her  to  the  surface  by  the  hair, 
and  held  her  head  above  water.  Her  clothing  had 
supported  her  thus  far,  and,  though  almost  ex- 
hausted, and  hardly  conscious,  she  was  able  to 
103 


Shipmates 


speak.  But  it  was  not  the  one  I  had  thought — 
it  was  Mi^s  N'ellie  Eunyon. 

She  struggled  weakly,  but  I  quieted  her  by 
firmly  spoken  commands  and  directions;  then, 
holding  her  above  and  in  front  of  me,  I  swam  on 
my  back.  We  could  reach  the  shore,  I  assured 
her,  and  send  help  for  the  others. 

But  something  hard  and  round  struck  my  left 
arm,  and  I  seized  it.  It  was  the  maintopmast,  and, 
as  I  clung  to  it  and  rested,  I  knew  by  the  rushing 
by  of  the  seas  that  it  was  anchored  to  the  yacht  by 
some  of  the  gear.  Cautiously  pulling  myself,  with 
the  girl  on  my  arm  now,  along  to  the  end,  I  found 
the  backstay  extending  taut  to  windward,  and 
heard  Gamble's  voice  coming  down  the  wind. 

"  Gamble !  "  I  shouted  with  all  my  power  of 
lung.  ''  0-o-o-o-oh,  Gamble!  I've  got  her — hang- 
ing on  to  the  topmast.  Send  down  a  line  on  a  life- 
buoy." 

He  answered  with  a  joyous  hurrah.  How  he 
heard  me — a  hundred  feet  to  leeward  of  him  in 
that  fierce  gale — and  how  he  managed  to  float  the 
life-buoy  directly  within  reach,  I  never  could  un- 
derstand. But  it  was  done  in  five  minutes,  and  I 
placed  the  cork  ring  under  the  arms  of  the  limp 
Miss  I^ellie,  sang  out  "'  Haul  in !  "  and  secured  a 
104 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

firm  grip  on  the  beckets.  He  pulled  us  to  the  rail 
in  half  a  minute,  and  dropped  me  the  bight  of  the 
rope  to  hold  to;  he  lifted  the  girl — life-buoy  and 
all — over  the  rail;  then,  as  I  scrambled  up  in  the 
darkness,  I  saw  him  disengage  that  drenched  and 
helpless  young  lady,  enfold  her  tightly  in  his  arms, 
and  kiss  her  repeatedly  on  the  lips,  cheeks,  and 
forehead,  unmindful  of  the  seas  which  washed  past 
him.    Then  he  gripped  my  hand  and  said  brokenly: 

"  God  bless  you  for  this,  Somers.  I  knew 
you'd  get  her  if  any  one  could;  but  I  knew  you 
couldn't  get  back  if  I  went  too." 

"Yes,  but  take  her  below,  man,"  I  answered. 
"  She  was  alive  when  I  had  her;  you've  drowned 
her."    He  carried  her  down. 

He  had  almost  drowned  me  in  that  rapid  rush 
through  the  water,  and  from  this,  or  from  her 
safety  after  the  danger,  or  from  the  kissing — I  do 
not  know  which — Miss  Nellie  was  unconscious  in 
his  arms.  And  I — I  had  learned  something  more, 
and  I  climbed  the  sloping  deck  with  a  hazy  compre- 
hension of  the  irony  of  fate,  which  had  brought  me 
unneeded  between  this  young  couple,  while  leaving 
Miss  Bronson  to  be  rescued,  possibly  by  Gamble, 
who  had  nothing  to  gain;  by  Hooper,  a  practical 
old  married  man ;  or,  perhaps,  by  her  brother,  who 
8  105 


Shipmates 


could  only  do  it  with  the  help  of  Providence,  and 
who  would  hold  the  feat  over  her  head,  as  a  club, 
while  she  lived. 

The  yacht  had  been  lifted  to  shallower  water, 
and  the  seas  now  spent  most  of  their  force  against 
the  higher  side  before  washing  over  the  deck.  I 
found  Hooper  lashed  to  the  fife-rail,  weakly  reply- 
ing to  the  comments  of  the  uninjured  and  unsub- 
dued boy,  who  was  proudly  holding  to  a  belaying- 
pin  with  one  hand  and  defying  the  sea  to  break  his 
grip. 

"  Good  for  you,  Somers,"  groaned  Hooper. 
"  Other  two  had  sense  enough  to  stay  down.  I'm 
helpless — ribs  stove  in.  She'll  hold  together,  no 
doubt,  until  daylight,  and  we'll  be  taken  off." 

"  But  how  did  it  happen,  Hooper?  Where  are 
we?  What  land  runs  north  and  south  around 
here?" 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  know.  I  can't  make  it 
out.  We  ought  to  have  been  off  Watch  Hill  Pond, 
but  not  down  to  the  reef.  It  can't  be  Block  Island, 
or  Fisher's  Island — impossible.  I  know  the  yacht's 
drift  under  any  rag  she  carries.  It  must  be  the 
reef;  but  we're  on  soft  bottom.  I  can't  under- 
stand." 

I  went  aft  and  looked  in  the  binnacle.  We 
.     106 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

were  heading  northeast,  and,  as  the  yacht  was  pre- 
sumably lying  parallel  with  the  nearest  land,  this 
was  consistent  only  with  our  having  overrun  the 
distance  and  bringing  up  on  Watch  Hill  Reef  with- 
out seeing  the  light.  But  the  seas  were  now  board- 
ing the  yacht  on  the  weather  bow — for  she  had 
swung  around  until  her  stern  grounded — aijd  these 
seas  came  over  us  with  the  force  and  volume  of 
Atlantic  combers,  too  heavy  to  develop  in  the  short 
distance  from  the  Ehode  Island  shore.  As  it  was 
manifestly  impossible  for  us  to  have  missed  Watch 
Hill  Eeef  and  reached  Fisher's  Island — ^far  to  the 
westward — it  seemed  that  we  must  have  drifted 
south  and  east,  and  struck  Block  Island  on  our 
last  westerly  tack.  But  this  meant  a  fifteen-mile 
drift  before  making  sail,  and  I  could  not  ad- 
mit it. 

Gamble  appeared  and  announced  that  Miss 
Eunyon  was  doing  well.  '^  Feeble,  but  rather  hap- 
py," he  said,  grinning  weakly  in  the  light  of  the 
binnacle.  "  And  say,  Somers,  she's  almighty 
grateful  to  you,  and  wants  to  be  forgiven — wants 
me  to  speak  for  her.'' 

"  For  what?  "  I  asked  in  surprise. 

"  Oh,  for  flirting  with  you  and  throwing  you 
over.  You  see,  her  conscience  is  mighty  active  just 
107 


Shipmates 


now,  and  she  thinks  you  may  have  felt  badly.  She 
tells  me  it  was  to  stir  me  up." 

"  Oh,  the  vanity  of  womenkind!  "  I  exclaimed 
sourly;  "and  you.  Gamble,  was  that  your  object 
in  crossing  my  hawse,  afterward?  " 

"  Well,  not  exactly,  Somers.  I  was  sore,  and 
off  my  feed,  of  course;  and  Miss  Bronson  was  very 
attractive,  and  very  kind  to  me.  But  I  had  no 
chance  in  that  quarter." 

"  I  forgive  you  both,"  I  said,  severely  as  I 
could.  "  Let  it  be  a  lesson  to  you.  Tell  her  I 
forgive  her  'way  down  in  my  heart." 

Then  he  announced  a  vital  piece  of  news — the 
water  was  coming  into  the  cabin.    I  told  Hooper. 

"  Keep  'em  below  as  long  as  possible,"  he  an- 
swered. "  It's  better  than  perching  in  the  rigging, 
and  the  lower  masts  might  go  at  any  time.  Lower 
the  mainsail  and  jibs;  they're  straining  the  spars; 
and  get  the  cartridges  for  the  gun,  and  the  rockets 
from  the  skipper's  room.    Use  'em  up." 

We  obeyed  him;  and  for  an  hour,  as  the  for- 
ward deck  sank  from  the  disintegration  of  the 
hull  beneath,  the  signal  gun  barked  and  rockets 
soared  skyward;  but  there  was  no  answering  sig- 
nal, and  when  the  last  rocket  and  cartridge  were 
expended  the  foremast  went  by  the  board;  then 
108 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

the  ladies  came  up,  flooded  out  of  the  cabin,  and 
we  assisted  them  and  Hooper  into  the  main  rig- 
ging, for  every  sea  now  swept  the  deck. 

"  Unlay  some  strands  from  the  gear  and  lash 
us,  boys,"  said  Hooper.  "  One  turn's  enough;  we 
might  want  to  cast  off  in  a  hurry.  You,  boy,  go 
down  and  get  the  knife  from  the  skylight,"  he 
called  to  Archibald. 

"  Knife  ain't  there,"  answered  the  youth. 

"Where  is  it?" 

"  Don't  know.  'Tain't  there.  I  looked,  and 
'tain't  there." 

"  When  did  you  look? "  I  asked,  suspiciously. 

"  Just  now — 'fore  we  came  up." 

I  descended,  searched  the  skylight,  and  found 
that  he  had  spoken  truly.  It  was  gone.  Then  I 
remembered  seeing  him  at  the  skylight  when  reef- 
ing; and  knowing  him  well,  climbed  up  to  him. 

"  You  took  that  knife  yourself,"  I  said  sternly. 
"  Where  is  it." 

"  I  didn't,"  he  exclaimed  petulantly;  "  and  it's 
my  knife,  anyway.  What  right  have  you  got  to  my 
knife,  I'd  like  to  know." 

"  He  put  something  into  the  binnacle  when  I 
was  steering,"  said  Mrs.  Hooper.  "  Was  it  the 
knife,  Archie? " 

109 


shipmates 


"  No,  it  wasn't  the  knife  at  all.  I  didn't  put 
anything  into  the  binnacle.'^ 

"The  binnacle!"  groaned  Hooper.  "Great 
smoke !  Boy,  if  you've  wrecked  my  yacht —  Go 
down  and  see,  Somers.'^ 

I  descended  again.  In  the  after-part  of  the 
brass  globe,  close  to  the  compass,  was  the  knife. 
As  I  removed  it  the  compass  card  swung  half- 
way round,  then  back,  and  when  it  had  stead- 
ied a  little  the  lubber's  point  hovered  at  due 
east. 

"  Hooper,"  I  said,  as  I  joined  them,  "  he  put 
it  in  the  binnacle,  and  hauled  us  four  points  north 
of  our  course.  We've  simply  piled  up  on  the 
Rhode  Island  shore,  and  this  wind  and  sea  are  just 
as  you  thought — right  in  from  the  broad  At- 
lantic." 

He  answered  only  with  wheezing  groans  as  he 
climbed  painfully  toward  the  boy.  There  was  ter- 
rible menace  in  the  slow  deliberation  of  his  move- 
ments. I  believe  he  would  have  killed  him,  crip- 
pled as  he  was.  And  I  prevented  it — not  for  his 
sake,  I  am  free  to  admit;  for  Hooper's,  and  for  the 
sake  of  that  quiet  sister  who  crouched  by  his  side, 
who  had  spoken  no  word  to  me,  whose  disapproval 
overtopped  the  terror  of  the  night.  I  seized  the 
110 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

boy  by  the  collar,  wrenched  him  clear  of  the  rig- 
ging, and  dropped  him  to  the  sheer-pole. 

^^  Stay  down  there  as  you  value  your  life!" 
I  shouted.  ^'  Hooper,  think  twice.  He  isn't 
worth  it.'' 

Hooper  seemed  to  be  choking,  but  he  remained 
where  he  was,  and  the  boy  had  brain  enough  to 
obey  me.  Fear  of  pain  always  aroused  his  fac- 
ulties. 

"Oh,  my  yacht! "  gasped  Hooper  at  last.  "  My 
beautiful  yacht !  Swapped  for  a  jack-knife !  "  But 
he  made  no  further  demonstration  toward  Archi- 
bald. 

Gamble  and  I  secured  cork  jackets  for  all  and 
arranged  them;  then  we  uiilaid  strands  from  run- 
ning gear,  tied  ourselves  to  the  shrouds,  and  in 
silence  and  cold — ^for  the  gale  blew  chilly  now — 
we  passed  the  night  in  the  rigging.  Just  before 
daylight  the  weather  cleared,  and  we  saw  lights 
to  leeward,  moving  back  and  forth,  as  though  car- 
ried by  men;  then  in  the  gray  of  the  morning  we 
saw  a  high  shore  a  quarter  mile  away  and  a  furi- 
ous nest  of  breakers  in  which  no  mere  surf-boat 
could  live  and  no  life-boat  be  launched.  And  the 
"Watch  Hill  life-savers,  who  had  seen  our  signals, 
were  well  aware  of  it;  for  coming  down  the  beach 
111 


Shipmates 


from  the  westward  was  a  f our-liorse  truck  carrying, 
not  a  boat,  but  a  life-car  and  wrecking  gear.  Men 
waved  their  hats,  and  we,  having  none,  answered 
with  our  hands. 

They  arranged  their  apparatus ;  a  puff  of  smoke 
arose  from  the  beach,  and  with  the  report  of  the 
wreck-gun  came  a  conical  shot,  with  a  line  at- 
tached, singing  over  our  heads.  It  fell  into  the 
sea,  and  the  bight  of  the  line  stretched  across  the 
deck. 

"  Get  it,"  said  Hooper.  "  Haul  in  plenty  of 
slack  from  to  windward,  cut  it,  and  reeve  it  through 
the  throat  halyard  block  aloft  to  haul  on.  They'll 
send  out  a  whip  and  a  hawser." 

We  followed  his  instructions,  unreeving  one 
part  of  the  throat  halyards  to  make  room  for  the 
shot-line,  and  hauling  on  this,  brought  out  a  tail- 
block  with  a  rope  rove  through  it.  Secured  to  the 
block  was  a  small  blackboard  with  the  following 
printed  instructions: 

"  Make  the  tail-block  fast  to  the  lower  mast, 
well  up.  If  the  masts  are  gone,  then  to  the  best 
place  you  can  find.  Cast  off  shot-line,  see  that  the 
rope  in  the  block  runs  free,  and  show  the  signal  to 
the  shore." 

We  secured  the  tail-block  as  directed,  just  be- 
112 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

low  the  hounds  of  the  mast,  and  waved  to  the  men 
on  the  beach.  Then  the  rope  travelled  and  out 
came  the  end  of  a  three-inch  hawser,  with  another 
tally-board  which  read: 

"  Make  this  hawser  fast  about  two  feet  above 
the  tail-block,  see  all  clear  and  that  the  rope 
in  the  block  runs  free,  and  show  signal  to  the 
shore." 

We  followed  these  instructions,  advised  by 
Hooper,  who  had  climbed  up  and  who  seemed  to 
know  the  drill.  Then  out  came  what  he  called  a 
breeches-buoy — a  cork  ring  such  as  Gamble. had 
floated  to  me,  but  with  four  lifts  supporting  it  to 
a  travelling  block  on  the  hawser,  and  a  canvas 
attachment  depending  from  the  under  side  resem- 
bling in  shape  a  pair  of  swimming  trunks.  Its  pur- 
pose was  obvious — a  man  could  get  into  the  ring, 
insert  his  legs  in  the  breeches,  and  be  pulled  safely 
through  the  surf. 

"  Who  goes  first?  "  I  asked,  thinking — I  could 
not  help  it,  having  been  laughed  at — of  the  pain- 
ful spectacle  of  a  lady  in  such  a  contrivance. 

"  The  boy,"  answered  Hooper.  "  I  must  go 
last,  and  you  fellows  must  stay  by  the  women. 
We'll  tell  him  to  ask  the  men  to  send  out  the  life- 
car  and  take  us  all  at  once.  Mast's  liable  to  fall 
113 


Shipmates 


at  any  time,  and  there  are  three  women  and  a  sick 
man  here/' 

"  Come  on,  Archibald/'  I  sang  out  as  I  de- 
scended to  him.  "  You're  to  go  first.  Mr.  Hooper 
won't  touch  you  now.    Come  on." 

He  gladly  climbed  a  few  ratlins,  for  the  seas 
were  drenching  him;  but  going  ashore  in  the 
breeches-buoy  was  another  proposition,  and  he  flat- 
ly refused. 

I  was  not  in  the  mood  to  waste  time  upon  him. 
There  was  danger  in  further  delay;  our  bare  feet 
were  numb  with  pain  from  standing  on  the  rat- 
lins; we  were. hungry  and  blue  in  the  lips  from 
cold  and  exposure;  the  ladies  were  suffering  keenly, 
and  Mrs.  Hooper  was  in  an  agony  of  wifely  anxiety 
about  her  husband,  who  really  needed  medical  at- 
tention. So  I  grimly  asked  the  group  for  a  pencil, 
and  Mrs.  Hooper  found  one  in  her  pocket.  Taking 
it  aloft,  I  scratched — hoping  it  was  legible — the 
request  for  the  life-car  on  one  of  the  black  tally- 
boards,  which  I  fastened  firmly  to  the  lifts  of  the 
breeches-buoy,  and  with  Gamble's  help  overhauled 
the  throat  halyards  until  I  reached  the  end  of  the 
rope.  With  this  I  descended — Gamble  following 
with  the  other  part — and  said  to  the  boy: 

"  If  you  resist  we'll  put  it  round  your  neck." 
114 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

"  What  you  goin'  to  do? "  lie  cried,  awed  by 
our  set  faces  and  the  menacing  preparations. 
"  Let  me  alone.  Don't  you  touch  me.  Annie, 
make  him  stop.'' 

While  he  protested  I  passed  the  end  around  his 
waist  and  knotted  it  at  his  shoulder-blades.  His 
resistance  was  vocal  only,  but  he  clung  tightly  to 
the  shrouds  until  Gamble  and  I,  pulling  down  on 
the  other  part  of  the  rope,  tore  him  away.  His 
sister  looked  on,  implacable  in  her  reserve,  say- 
ing nothing.  Mrs.  Hooper  pleaded  mildly  not  to 
hurt  him,  and  Miss  Nellie  looked  frightened, 
while  Hooper,  above,  called  down  to  "  bowse 
him  up." 

As  he  rolled  past  the  after-shroud  and  swung 
far  to  leeward,  a  piercing  scream  left  his  lips,  and 
as  he  went  aloft  in  irregular  curves  the  scream 
was  repeated  with  every  breath  until  it  took  on 
the  hoarse  intonation  noticeable  in  the  squealing 
of  a  pig  in  the  hands  of  a  butcher.  It  continued 
—peal  after  peal — after  we  had  hoisted  him  to  the 
top-block;  and  when  I  had  climbed  to  his  level,  it 
gathered  force  borne  of  my  proximity  and  became 
an  inarticulate,  squalling  roar. 

Gamble  had  remained  below  to  slack  away,  and 
Hooper  was  unable  to  assist;  so  upon  me  alone  de- 
115 


shipmates 


volved  the  task  of  getting  him  into  the  breeches- 
buoy. 

"  In  you  go/'  I  yelled  at  him.  "  Go  ashore  and 
send  out  that  life-car." 

"  I  won't — I  won't — I  won't,"  he  shrieked. 
"  Annie,  Annie — don't  let  him !  "  Then  the  words 
merged  into  the  squall  of  fright. 

The  breeches-buoy  was  just  beneath  him.  I 
gripped  the  shrouds  firmly  with  my  knees,  and 
holding  on  with  one  hand,  reached  for  his  throat 
with  the  other.  As  I  felt  the  soft  flesh  yield  under 
my  grip,  and  saw  his  face  grow  red,  then  purple,  I 
felt  dimly  and  momentarily  the  murder  impulse — 
the  desire  to  kill  inherent  in  us  all — the  legacy 
from  our  cave-dwelling  ancestors.  But  I  was  a 
civilized  man,  with  a  long  line  of  civilized  grand- 
fathers, and  when  his  tongue  began  to  protrude  I 
released  the  pressure. 

"  Will  you  go?  "  I  shouted. 

He  choked,  sputtered,  and  began  his  howl,  but 
did  not  finish.  I  closed  down  again,  and  this  time 
held  the  stricture  until  the  clutch  of  his  own  fin- 
gers over  mine  relaxed;  then  I  gave  him  a  breath, 
shut  off  again,  and  sang  out  ^^  Lower  away,  hand- 
somely." As  Gamble  slacked  him  down,  I  guided 
his  limp  legs  into  the  buoy,  took  my  fingers  from 
116 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

his  throat,  and  holding  him  firmly  by  the  collar, 
unhitched  him,  and  waved  to  the  men  ashore. 
They  were  evidently  aware  of  our  trouble,  for  they 
instantly  let  go  the  upper  part  of  the  whip,  which 
had  held  the  breeches-buoy  close  to  the  tail-block, 
and  Archibald  shot  down  the  inclined  trolley  fifty 
feet  before  his  vocal  powers  were  again  in  working 
order;  but  then  it  sounded — shriek  after  shriek  of 
animal  terror  coming  back  on  the  gale,  fainter  and 
fainter  as  they  hauled  him  shoreward.  The  yacht 
was  rolling  with  the  heave  of  the  sea,  and  as  the 
mast  inclined,  the  hawser  would  slacken,  dropping 
him  within  reach  of  the  combers;  as  she  rolled 
backward  and  tautened  it,  up  would  go  Archibald 
high  above  the  hawser,  his  fat  legs  pointing  heaven- 
ward like  steeples  out  of  plumb.  Then  he  would 
fall  with  a  jerk  which  strained  the  hitches  on  the 
mast.  In  the  breakers  he  was  immersed  half  the 
time,  but  not  until  he  stood  up  on  the  beach  did 
his  protest  cease.  And  thus  the  product  of  moth- 
erly coddling,  mismanagement,  and  inborn  vicious- 
ness  was  rescued  from  a  watery  grave. 

I  had  known  the  mind  of  a  righteous  judge, 
and  the  ofiicial  calm  of  a  hangman;  but  now  that 
the  nauseous  job  was  done,  I  was  faint  with  dis- 
gust; though  when  I  descended  past  Hooper,  and 
117 


shipmates 


heard  him  chuckling  joyously,  and  was  heartened 
thereby,  I  concluded  it  was  partly  due  to  an  empty 
stomach. 

The  life-car,  a  short  boat  with  a  whale-back 
deck  and  ventilated  hatch,  came  out,  slung  by  rings 
to  the  hawser.  With  less  trouble  than  might  have 
been  expected  after  Archibald's  example,  we  in- 
duced the  ladies — who  had  certainly  shown  won- 
derful courage  and  fortitude — to  climb  the  rigging 
and  be  assisted  into  the  car.  In  spite  of  his  inten- 
tion to  be  last  to  leave  the  yacht,  poor  Hooper  was 
first,  being  unable  to  lower  himself,  unaided,  into 
the  hatch.  His  wife  followed,  then  Miss  Bronson, 
Miss  Eunyon,  and  Gamble.  It  was  given  me  to 
support  Miss  Bronson  with  an  arm  about  her  waist, 
as  she  stepped  from  the  rigging  to  the  deck  of  the 
car;  and  as  she  looked  into  my  face  before  going 
down  I  saw  the  twitching  of  the  mouth  and  the 
pleading  in  the  the  eyes  that  I  had  once  ascribed  to 
her  sense  of  loss.  She  did  not  speak,  nor  did  I; 
but  the  incident  softened  me,  and  prepared  me  for 
what  happened  in  the  car. 

When  all  were  down,  I  signalled  to  the  shore, 

descended  the  hatch,  and  secured  the  cover  by  its 

inside    bar    according    to    Hooper's    directions. 

Though  the  hatch  cover  was  pierced  with  small 

118 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

holes,  it  was  very  dark  in  there,  and  I  only  knew, 
as  I  crouched  down  and  gripped  a  handhold,  that 
Hooper  and  Gamble  were  on  the  opposite  side  with 
one  of  the  ladies,  while  on  each  side  of  me  were 
the  other  two. 

The  car  started;  and,  however  it  might  have  ap- 
peared to  observers  ashore,  the  first  part  of  the  pas- 
sage was  no  more  uncomfortable  than  would  be 
a  trolley-ride.  Our  united  weight  kept  us  below 
the  hawser — fairly  steady,  and  there  was  not  even 
the  rapid,  toboggan-like  rush  down  the  incline 
which  had  afflicted  Archibald;  for  he  had  been 
hung  to  a  travelling  pulley,  while  the  life-car  was 
supported  by  two  rings.  The  grating  of  these 
rings  over  the  strands  of  the  hawser  prevented  con- 
versation, and  I  was  not  surprised  when  my  right- 
hand  neighbour  leaned  my  way  as  though  to  speak 
in  my  ear;  but  I  was  much  surprised  when  an  arm 
slid  around  my  neck,  soft  breath  fanned  my  face, 
and  lips  kissed  me.  I  could  not  tell  in  the  darkness 
which  one  it  was,  but  as  some  comment  was  re- 
quired, I  brought  my  mouth  close  to  her  ear  and 
w^hispered: 

"Afraid?'^ 

"No,  not  while  you're  with  me/'  came  the 
whispered  answer. 

119 


Shipmates 


"  Must  be  Annie/'  I  thought,  with  my  heart 
thumping.    "  Wonder  what's  brought  her  'round?  " 

"  Say,  Will/'  came  the  whisper  in  my  ear, 
"isn't  he  horrid?" 

It  was  not  Miss  Bronson;  it  was  Miss  l^ellie 
again,  talking  to  her  beloved  Gamble.  Now  was 
the  time  for  an  honourable  man  to  undeceive  her, 
but  I  was  weak  and  fallible;  I  wanted  to  know  who 
was  "horrid,"  and  why;  and  I  was  also  governed 
by  fear  of  the  mutual  embarrassment  which  would 
follow  her  discovery  of  whom  she  had  kissed.  So  I 
remained  silent. 

"Isn't  he  mean?"  she  asked  again. 

"Yes,  of  course.    Who?" 

"  Mr.  Somers." 

"  What's  he  done  now?  " 

"  Why,  he's  treating  her  awful — ^won't  speak 
to  her — won't  look  at  her — insulted  her  at  the 
hotel.  She  told  me  so — she's  breaking  her  heart — 
and  he  isn't  worth  it,  even  though  he  did  help  you 
save  my  life.  If  'twas  me,  I'd  never  look  at  him 
again;  but  she  accepted  Mrs.  Hooper's  invitation 
just  to  be  near  him — to  make  it  up,  you  see.  And 
he  won't  forgive  her." 

"  Won't  forgive  her?  "  I  gasped.  "  What's  she 
done?" 

120 


The  Devil  and  his  Due 

"Nothing  at  all.  But — she  didn't  tell  this. 
Her  brother  told  us  in  the  cabin — he  was  propos- 
ing just  as  she  sat  down  on  a  pin  which  Archie  had 
fixed  for  him,  and  she  had  to  jump  and  run.  Now, 
she  just  couldn't  stay  there,  could  she?" 

"  No,  I  should  think  not." 

"  And  the  big  goose,  who  loves  every  hair  of 
her  head — I  know,  because  he  shouted  for  her  in 
the  water,  thinking  I  was  she — don't  know  any 
more  than  to  get  mad.  And  she  can't  explain, 
can  she  ? " 

"  Ought  to  be  kicked,"  I  managed  to  say. 
"Shall  I  tell  him?" 

"  Not  for  the  world.  She'd  never  forgive  me. 
You're  not  supposed  to  know.  I'll  manage  it.  I'll 
be  the  good  fairy.  She's  a  dear  girl;  she  sent  you 
back  to  me  where  you  belonged — you  jealous 
ninny!  I  never  cared  for  him;  but  he  helped  you, 
and  I'll  be  good  to  him." 

"  You're  a  dear  girl  yourself,"  I  said,  and  as 
I  meant  to  forestall  her  efforts  in  my  behalf,  and  as 
there  was  something  due  me  for  having  "  helped  " 
Gamble  in  saving  her  life,  and  as  the  whispering 
lips  were  very  close,  I  took  my  vicarious  reward 
right  there.  Then  the  life-car  struck  a  sea,  and 
the  rest  of  the  trip  was  a  tumble  through  the  surf. 
6  121 


Shipmates 


Among  his  youthful  friends  Archibald  is  now 
a  hero.  The  reporters  interviewed  him,  and  de- 
scribed his  perilous  ride  through  the  breakers  in 
behalf  of  the  cowardly  "  grown-ups  "  who  waited 
for  the  life-car.  He  is  soon  to  become  my  brother- 
in-law;  but,  though  the  sentence  of  death  still 
hangs  over  him,  I  doubt  that  it  will  ever  be  car- 
ried out.  For  he  fears  me  as  his  patron  saint  is 
said  to  fear  the  good  Book,  and  nothing  short  of 
physical  restraint  will  induce  him  to  remain  within 
sound  of  my  voice. 


122 


POLARITY 

A  TALE  OF  TWO  BRUNETTES 


I  TOSSED  my  half -smoked  cigar  overboard.  It 
had  not  availed  to  increase  my  courage,  though 
lighted  for  the  purpose. 

"  Miss  Durand/'  I  began,  desperately,  with  the 
painful  fluttering  of  the  heart  which  attends  on 
most  confessions,  "  do  you  know  that  I  invited  you 
out  here  with  an  object  in  view — other  than  the 
mere  inspection  of  my  yacht  ?  " 

"  Indeed?  "  The  dark  eye-brows  lifted  slight- 
ly, and  the  darker  eyes  glanced  swiftly  into  mine, 
and  dropped. 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  in  furtherance  of  this  object 
that  I  sent  my  sailing-master  and  the  crew  ashore 
for  the  new  sails,  and  the  steward  for  provisions — 
though  both  could  wait.'' 

"  I  thought  you  were  ignoring  the  proprieties," 
she  answered,  with  an  increase  of  colour.  "  I  am 
sure  every  glass  on  the  beach  has  been  levelled 
at  us.'' 

123 


shipmates 


^^  Perhaps — ^perhaps,  Miss  Durand;  I  am  sorry 
if  it  will  embarrass  you;  but  I  felt  that  I  miust  see 
you  alone,  and  that  has  been  impossible  since  our 
first  meeting.  Do  you  know  that  I  disliked  you 
then?'' 

"  Why,  Mr.  Townsend/'  she  exclaimed,  sitting 
bolt  upright  in  the  deck-chair,  "  I  did  not  know  it. 
Is  it  kind  of  you  to  tell  me  this?  " 

"  It  is  my  own  fault — not  yours,"  I  answered, 
hurriedly;  ^Met  me  explain.''  Then,  while  the 
beautiful  face  was  half  turned  away  from  me,  and 
the  shapely  fingers  of  one  white  hand  were  closing 
and  unclosing  nervously  over  those  of  the  other,  I 
blundered  through  a  long  explanation  of  a  pet 
theory,  arising  from  something  I  had  heard,  or  read, 
in  my  boyhood,  concerning  the  physiological  hin- 
drance to  true  love,  or  even  agreement,  when  lovers 
happened  to  be  of  the  same  colour  of  eyes  and  hair. 
I  told  her  that  my  theory  had  been  justified  by 
experience  and  observation — that,  as  a  boy,  I 
had  never  been  able  to  patch  up  a  tiff,  or  a  mis- 
understanding, with  a  dark-haired  girl,  but  that  the 
sunny-haired  kind  were  my  friends,  because — I  felt 
sure — I  was  a  pronounced  brunette  myself,  black- 
eyed  and  swarthy.  Later,  I  had  noticed  that  all  my 
married  friends  who  seemed  unhappily  mated  were 
124 


Polarity 

of  the  same  type — both  blonde,  or  both  brunette. 
"  And,  Miss  Durand,'^  I  concluded,  "  I  met  you 
with  this  theory  firmly  intrenched  in  my  mind,  and 
avoided  you  for  a  while  on  general  principles.  I 
felt  that  we  could  never  become  friends.  Then — 
do  you  know  what  changed  me?  I  learned  that 
you,  in  your  life  at  sea  with  your  father,  had  be- 
come a  better  sailor  than  I — which  could  not  but 
impress  an  enthusiastic  yachtsman.  I  enjoyed  your 
conversation,  cultivated  your  acquaintance,  learned 
daily  of  new  beauties  of  character,  realized  to  the 
full  all  your  sweetness  and  nobility  of  soul,  and 
ended  with  a  complete  surrender  and  shattering  of 
my  theories.  Miss  Durand,  you  have  conquered, 
captivated  me " 

''  Goodness ! ''  she  exclaimed. 

I  was  fairly  well  launched  in  what  I  considered 
a  dignified  avowal  of  love,  when  this  remark  cut  me 
short.  It  was  not  in  answer  to  me,  however,  as  for 
an  instant  I  thought.  The  yacht  was  heeling,  and 
a  cool  pressure  of  swiftly  moving  air  fanned  our 
faces.  Springing  to  my  feet,  I  looked  toward  the 
shore.  It  was  hidden  by  a  blackish-gray  wall  of 
cloud  which  also  obliterated  from  view  the  moun- 
tain-top inland.  The  lower  part  of  it  was  marked 
by  slanting  and  nearly  parallel  darker  lines  of  de- 
125 


Shipmates 


scending  rain,  and  beneath  it  was  a  white,  frothy 
turmoil  of  water. 

''  A  squall/'  I  said,  "  and  a  bad  one.  Better 
go  below,  Miss  Durand,  out  of  the  wet.  I'll  stay- 
on  deck." 

^^  What  chain  are  you  riding  by? "  she  asked, 
with  no  regard  to  my  advice. 

"  I  don't  know.     Short,  I  believe." 

"  Pay  out,  Mr.  Townsend;  she  will  need  it  all." 
Miss  Durand  was  compelled  to  scream  this,  as  the 
squall  was  upon  us.  It  became  nearly  as  dark  as 
night,  and  while  the  whistling  fury  of  wind  pelted 
us  with  horizontal  rain,  and  my  companion,  indif- 
ferent to  the  drenching,  clung  to  the  binnacle, 
studying  the  compass  and  the  direction  of  the  blast, 
I  fought  my  way  forward,  toward  the  windlass. 
Urgent  as  was  the  need  of  prompt  action,  I  could 
not  but  note,  in  passing  her,  the  perfection  of  a 
figure  shown  to  me  in  all  its  harmony  of  swelling 
curve  and  rounded  hollow,  as  the  wet-clinging 
fabric  of  her  dress  was  pressed  about  her  by  the 
wind.  She  was  not  frightened,  but  the  wide-open 
dark  eyes,  and  parted  lips,  showing  but  two  of  the 
white  teeth,  gave  the  lovely  face  an  expression 
of  sailorly  anxiety,  charming  in  her — this  child 
of  the  sea.  She  was,  indeed,  I  thought,  a  crea- 
126 


Polarity 


ture  to  live,  and  work,  and  fight  for,  if  not  to 
die  for. 

''  Go  below,  Miss  Durand,"  I  shouted,  as  I  cov- 
ered the  forecastle  hatch;  but  she  did  not  move. 
The  yacht  carried  a  modern  windlass,  over  a 
sprocket-like  wheel  of  which  the  chain  led  from  the 
hawse-pipe  to  the  locker  below.  I  knew  by  the  jar- 
ring vibration  of  the  lever  as  I  grasped  it  that  the 
anchor  was  dragging.  Unlocking  the  windlass,  I 
let  the  chain  run.  It  was  too  dark  to  see,  and  I 
could  only  guess  at  the  shackles  as  they  whizzed 
out;  so  after  a  conjectural  thirty  fathoms  had 
been  added  to  the  chain,  I  tightened  the  compressor 
and  held  it.  The  anchor  still  dragged,  and  I  let  the 
wheel  spin.  Again  I  held  it,  and  again  felt  the  jar- 
ring of  the  anchor  bounding  along  the  bottom.  It 
seemed  to  be  striking  rocks,  and  resolving  to  pay 
out  all  the  chain  at  once,  I  loosened  the  compressor, 
took  my  hand  off  the  lever,  and  stood  up,  confident, 
with  amateurish  confidence,  that  the  end  of  the 
cable  was  secured  to  the  pawl-post  below.  In  ten 
seconds  that  end  came  up,  barely  cleared  my  face, 
dealt  the  deck  a  blow  that  sounded  like  a  pistol 
report,  and  shot  out  the  hawse-pipe  in  a  glow  of 
sparks.  It  was  a  lubberly  oversight — of  my  sail- 
ing-master or  mate. 

127 


shipmates 


^^  We're  adrift!  I've  slipped  the  chain,"  I 
shouted,  running  aft  to  Miss  Durand. 

I  could  not  hear  clearly  in  that  howling  wind  all 
she  said  in  reply,  yet  I  thought  that  some  part  of 
her  answer  formed  a  context  to  the  word  "  fool," 
which  I  was  sure  I  heard  quite  clearly.  But  she 
beckoned  me  close  to  her,  and  called  in  my  ear: 

"  Hog-back  Reef  is  but  a  quarter  mile  to  lee- 
ward. Come  forward.  We  must  get  her  before 
the  wind.     The  wheel  is  hard-a-port." 

What  courage  and  self-possession  she  had!  I 
understood  her;  the  schooner  was  stripped  to  her 
spars,  and  the  only  plan  was  to  stand  forward 
as  near  the  bows  as  we  could  so  that  our  bodies 
might  catch  the  wind  and  throw  her  around  before 
it.  Then  we  could  steer.  We  clung  to  the  fore- 
stay,  and  watched  the  yacht  swing  broadside  to  the 
storm,  but  beyond  that  we  could  not  turn. 

"  Lay  out,"  screamed  Miss  Durand. 

I  obeyed  her,  and  erect  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  jib-boom  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  little 
schooner  pay  off.  Dim  and  obscure  in  the  gloom 
I  saw  the  figure  of  Miss  Durand  staggering  aft 
against  the  pressure  of  wind,  and  coming  in, 
joined  her.  She  had  taken  the  wheel,  and  now 
called: 

128 


Polarity 


"  Light  the  binnacle — quick!  Then  watch  for 
the  reef.     I  think  we  can  clear  it." 

She  steered  with  the  wind  on  the  port  quarter, 
while  I  took  the  lamp  below,  lighted,  and  replaced 
it  in  the  binnacle.  As  I  raised  up,  she  pointed  to 
starboard.  Hog-back  Eeef,  an  outcrop  of  black 
rocks  in  a  swirling,  boiling  yeast  of  agitated  water, 
was  but  a  half-length  away. 

''  We  must  let  her  drive,  and  keep  off  the 
bottom,"  she  screamed.  ^^  I  know  the  channel — 
east-southeast  now,  and  when  we  pass  the  beacon 
to  port  we  can  square  away.  Keep  a  lookout;  I  will 
steer." 

I  felt  that  steering  would  be  more  in  keeping 
with  my  strength,  and  offered  to  relieve  her,  but 
she  motioned  me  away,  and  I  obeyed.  I  could  not 
help  it. 

The  yacht  was  charging  along  at  about  a  ten- 
knot  rate,  and  I  watched  through  the  darkness  and 
fog-like  spindrift  for  the  beacon-house.  In  five 
minutes  it  loomed  up,  huge  and  shadowy  on  the 
port  bow,  and  I  pointed  to  it.  She  nodded,  shifted 
the  wheel,  and  called  me  to  her. 

"  Due  southeast  for  two  miles  now,"  she  cried 
in  my  ear;  ''  then  we  are  at  sea.  Will  you  steer? 
My  arms  ache." 

129 


Shipmates 


I  gladly  relieved  her.  She  had  already  found 
the  course,  and  I  held  the  yacht  to  it,  while  she 
leaned  against  the  companionway  and  peered  ahead. 
What  was  in  her  mind  I  could  not  guess.  This 
squall  had  interrupted  a  proposal  of  marriage, 
which  her  woman's  understanding  must  have  ap- 
prised her  was  coming.  And  I  had  not  put  the 
matter  in  shape  to  be  answered,  and  surely  could 
not  until  the  wind  moderated  and  our  safety  was 
assured.  But  there  came  to  my  mind  the  favourite 
situations  in  Clark  EusselFs  charming  sea  stories 
— a  young  man  and  woman  alone  somewhere  at 
sea,  on  a  derelict,  a  raft,  or  an  island — and  from  the 
resemblance  of  our  own  position  to  that  of  his 
characters  I  drew  hope  and  courage ;  for  out  of  the 
perils  of  the  sea  grew  most  logically  the  loves  of 
his  heroes  and  heroines. 

A  curling,  shallow-water  sea  was  following  the 
yacht,  and  the  spray,  colder  than  the  summer  rain, 
was  chilling  me  to  the  bone.  Miss  Durand  must 
have  suffered  more,  and  I  called  to  her: 

"  Won't  you  go  below?  It  is  dangerous  to  ex- 
pose yourself  this  way." 

She  moved  to  the  binnacle,  looked  at  the  com- 
pass, and  then  at  me,  with  eye-brows  knitted. 

"  Keep  her  on  her  course,"  she  cried  sharply. 
130 


Polarity 


I  was  a  point  and  a  half  off  the  course.  Bow- 
ing to  her  in  acknowledgment  of  my  carelessness, 
I  brought  the  yacht  ba(:?k,  and  repeated  my 
advice. 

"  No,"  was  her  answer;  "  not  with  you  at  the 
wheel — not  until  we  have  sea  room." 

This  I  thought  was  rather  unkind,  but  I  forgave 
her;  she  was  wet,  cold,  and  in  a  most  embarrassing 
position. 

The  first  violence  of  the  squall  had  passed,  and 
it  grew  lighter,  enabling  us  to  see  landmarks  each 
side  and  ahead;  but  a  gray  gale  of  wind  was  left, 
which  drove  us  down  the  channel,  past  the  spar- 
buoy  off  the  light-house  point — ^where  the  keeper 
came  out  and  waved  to  us — past  the  channel  buoy, 
which  I  would  have  run  down  had  not  Miss  Durand 
screamed  at  me  and  assisted  at  the  wheel,  and  out 
beyond  the  whistling  buoy  that  marked  the  en- 
trance to  the  channel.  We  were  at  sea — a  half 
confident  commodore  of  a  yacht  club,  and  a  much 
out-of-sorts  young  woman — in  a  sailless  schooner- 
yacht,  with  a  scant  supply  of  provisions  and  water. 
Yet  I  doubted  not  of  our  rescue;  breezy  old  Captain 
Durand  would  charter  every  steam  yacht  and  tug 
within  reach  of  a  telegram  to  search  for  his  daugh- 
ter; and  I  imagined  what  my  blowing-up  would  be 
131 


shipmates 


when  I  came  within  range  of  his  quarter-deck  vo- 
cabulary. 

An  off-shore  sea  was  now  raising,  and  the  little 
schooner  began  to  heave  unpleasantly.  Miss  Du- 
rand  left  her  position,  and  asked:  "  Have  you  any 
canvas  aboard — a  storm  mainsail  or  trysail? '' 

"  ITot  a  rag,"  I  answered.  ''  I  condemned 
every  sail  in  the  suit,  and  sold  them  yesterday  for 
junk.'' 

"  Have  you  a  sea  anchor? " 

"  A  sea  anchor?     I  don't  know.     What  is  it?  " 

With  a  gesture  of  impatience  she  opened  the 
companionway  and  went  below. 

"Poor  girl!"  I  thought.  "It  certainly  is 
enough  to  ruffle  the  sweetest  of  tempers.  But  what 
on  earth  is  a  sea  anchor?  It  isn't  mentioned  in  the 
books." 

She  came  up  in  a  few  moments  and  said: 

"  I  have  rummaged  for  material.  There  are 
tools  in  the  forecastle.  You  can  not  use  a  hatch, 
and  the  cabin  table  is  too  small.  You  must  take 
down  a  stateroom  door,  bore  holes  in  each  corner, 
make  a  bridle  and  weight  one  side.  There  is  a 
hawser  in  the  forecastle  that  will  answer  for  a 
riding  line.     I  will  steer." 

"  What  for?  What  do  you  want  me  to  do? " 
132 


Polarity 


''  Make  a  drag — to  hold  her  head  to  sea.  We 
are  driving  out  too  fast.  When  you  have  rigged 
and  ridden  to  a  sea  anchor,  you  will  have  an  im- 
mense advantage.  Your  club  will  call  you  their 
admiral.'' 

ISTot  even  the  effort  to  make  herself  heard  above 
the  storm  could  qualify  the  contempt  which  she 
put  into  these  words,  and  coming  from  her,  for 
whom  I  am  confident  I  would  have  given  my  life, 
it  hurt  me  beyond  expression.  But  I  was  of  age, 
and  with  a  certain  experience  of  the  world  and  of 
women,  I  knew  that  without  her  respect  I  was 
valueless  to  her,  and  my  love  futile;  and  this  re- 
spect I  could  not  ask — I  must  compel  it.  So  with 
as  much  dignity  as  a  man  may  assume  while  grind- 
ing a  three-foot  wheel  right  and  left,  I  said: 

"  Miss  Durand,  I  can  understand  and  appreciate 
your  superior  nautical  knowledge.  I  have  often 
heard  your  father  speak  of  you  as  a  better  sailor 
and  navigator  than  himself,  and  I  feel  deeply  culpa- 
ble and  sorry  for  our  present  position.  I  admit  I 
am  solely  to  blame.  Yet  I  hope  that  I  do  not  de- 
serve all  your  sarcasm." 

"Port!  Port!"  she  answered,  seizing  the 
wheel.  A  choppy  sea  broke  over  the  port  quarter, 
drenching  us  both,  and  rolled  forward.  It  was 
133 


Shipmates 


with  difficulty  that,  with  her  help,  I  prevented  the 
yacht  broaching  to.  Again  I  had  shown  my  inca- 
pacity, and  my  ears  burned. 

"  Go  to  work,"  she  said,  sharply. 

I  relinquished  the  wheel  to  her,  and  went  below, 
where,  in  an  unenviable  frame  of  mind,  I  ruined 
a  mahogany  stateroom  door  with  an  auger.  I  could 
not  remember  all  of  her  instructions,  and  was  too 
proud  to  ask;  but  I  possessed  a  fairly  logical  mind, 
and  reasoning  out  the  points  in  the  contrivance  as 
I  progressed,  soon  had  it  finished.  In  the  fore- 
castle was  the  tow-line  she  had  mentioned,  but  I 
captiously  decided  not  to  use  it.  Hawsers  should 
not  be  wet  until  necessary.     I  knew  that  much. 

I  brought  the  door  on  deck  with  a  shackle  fast 
to  the  knob  for  a  weight,  unrove  the  fore-throat 
halyards,  and  bent  it  to  the  bridle  I  had  rigged 
from  the  corners  of  the  door  in  spite  of  her  scream- 
ing protest  that  the  rope  was  too  weak. 

"  Miss  Durand,"  I  said,  coldly  but  politely,  as 
I  struggled  up  to  her  against  the  wind,  "  I  am  the 
owner  of  this  yacht  and  all  the  ropes  on  board.  I 
am  now  ready.  If  you  will  kindly  put  the  wheel 
over,  I  will  throw  out  the  drag  as  soon  as  we  lose 
headway."  She  ground  the  wheel  to  starboard  with 
a  vigour  and  strength  which  surprised  me,  while 
134 


Polarity 

her  face  assumed  a  stony  expression.  She  was  not 
beautiful  in  her  present  mood,  and  the  shock  of  the 
change  pained  me,  angry  as  I  felt. 

Sea  after  sea,  green  and  solid,  boarded  the  yacht 
as  she  rounded  to  and  rolled  in  the  trough,  and  I 
was  twice  knocked  from  my  feet  before  I  managed 
to  launch  the  door  over  the  bow  and  catch  a  turn 
with  the  line,  which,  by  slacking  with  a  taut  strain, 
brought  the  bow  slowly  to  the  wind.  When  the 
whole  length,  about  twenty  fathoms,  was  out  I 
made  fast,  and  two  minutes  later  realized  that  I 
had  made  another  mistake,  and  that  Miss  Durand 
was  again  right.  The  rope  was  too  weak,  and 
parted  at  the  chock. 

With  an  inward  malediction  on  my  stubborn- 
ness, I  scrambled  aft — past  Miss  Durand,  whose  im- 
passive face  was  averted — and  below,  where,  in  a 
state  of  unstable  equilibrium,  I  duplicated  my  work 
on  the  other  door.  The  job  took  me  an  hour,  for 
the  yacht  behaved  like  a  cradle  in  the  trough  of 
the  rising  sea.  Carrying  the  door  up  the  compan- 
ionway,  flushed  and  fatigued  from  my  exertions, 
I  said  to  Miss  Durand,  with  a  poor  show  of 
politeness:  "I  need  help  to  get  that  hawser  up; 
will  you  go  down  and  light  the  coils  out  of  the 
locker? " 

135 


shipmates 


She  had  lashed  herself  to  the  wheel-box  grating, 
and,  after  a  searching  look  into  my  face  which  puz- 
zled me,  undid  the  lashing  and  went  below,  while 
I  staggered  forward  with  my  burden.  Lifting  the 
forecastle  hatch,  I  received  the  end  from  her,  and 
after  a  difficult  quarter  hour's  dragging — during 
which  the  forecastle  was  nearly  flooded — had  the 
hawser  coiled  on  deck.  With  experience  to  guide 
me  this  time,  I  passed  the  end  out  the  vacant  hawse- 
pipe  and  back  over  the  rail  before  bending  on. 
Then,  throwing  the  drag  over  as  before,  and  slacking 
out  all  the  line,  I  again  brought  the  yacht's  nose  to 
the  sea  and  made  fast.  Bound  not  to  earn  her  criti- 
cism if  I  could  help  it,  I  wrapped  the  hawser  snugly 
with  canvas — parcelling,  I  think  they  call  it — and 
slacked  this  wrapping  into  the  hawse-pipe  to  take 
the  chafe. 

The  little  schooner  rode  the  seas  nobly,  and  my 
chagrin  at  Miss  Durand's  attitude  was  replaced,  in 
part,  by  a  seamanly  pride  in  the  success  of  my 
efforts.  She  would  share  in  the  benefit  and  must 
accord  me  a  share  in  the  credit.  Though  without 
her  superb  knowledge  of  the  sea  and  of  ships,  I  felt 
that  I  could  be  of  use  to  her  in  this  crisis,  and 
selfishly  hoped  that  our  voyage  would  continue  long- 
enough  for  me  to  offset,  by  intelligent  work  and 
136 


Polarity 

devotion,  my  ridiculous  blunder  in  slipping  the 
chain.  "  She  was  educated  at  sea,"  I  mused, ''  and 
places  seamanship  at  the  head  of  manly  accom- 
plishments. I  have  been  found  wanting  in  sea- 
manship; consequently  I  have  dropped  in  her  es- 
teem and  must  be  punished.''  Miss  Durand  was 
almost  forgiven— would  have  been  wholly  so  had 
I  been  quite  sure  of  my  premises. 

Mounting  the  fore-rigging,  I  searched  closely 
the  gray  expanse  of  crested  sea  between  myself  and 
the  rocky  shore  fast  disappearing  in  the  gloom  of 
the  evening.  There  was  no  sign  of  sail  or  smoke 
to  indicate  a  search  for  us,  and  descending,  I  went 
aft  to  Miss  Durand,  who  was  again  seated  on  the 
grating.  Her  hat  was  blown  away,  and  her  hair 
sadly  disarranged  by  the  wind;  she  had  not  laboured 
as  I  had,  her  lips  were  blue  from  cold  and  she 
shivered  palpably.  A  great  pity  possessed  me,  and 
I  forgot  everything  except  that  I  loved  her. 

"  Miss  Durand,"  I  exclaimed,  ''  this  will  not 
do.  You  are  suffering.  We  are  in  for  a  night  at 
sea;  but  she  rides  easy.  Go  down,  and  I  will  stand 
watch.  You  will  find  food  of  some  kind  in  the 
steward's  pantry — and  stimulants;  you  need  them 
— and  then  go  to  bed.     There  are  two  staterooms." 

With  a  look  in  her  eyes  which  might  have  meant 
10  137 


shipmates 


anger  or  scorn  or  fright — or  all  three,  so  strange 
and  unpleasant  it  seemed — she  stood  erect  and  drew 
back;  then,  with  a  little  grimace  which  certainly 
indicated  disgust  and  aversion,  she  passed  me  and 
went  below. 

Hurt  beyond  measure  by  her  manner,  incapable 
of  connected  thought,  I  took  her  place  on  the  grat- 
ing, where  I  sat  until  my  limbs  were  stiff  with  cold ; 
but  I  cared  nothing  for  it;  her  insolence  had  fired 
my  brain  and  numbed  my  heart.  The  chilly  wind 
could  not  blow  cold  enough  for  me. 

I  heard  the  sound  of  rattling  dishes,  and  knew 
that  she  was  helping  herself  in  the  pantry;  then 
darkness  descended  and  the  cabin  became  quiet. 
Though  the  gale  was  moderating,  the  sea  was  get- 
ting higher  and  the  temperature  lower,  and  at  last, 
chilled  to  the  bone  by  the  wet  and  cold,  I  was  forced 
to  pace  up  and  down.  The  exercise  brought  co- 
herence to  my  thoughts,  and  I  reviewed  what  had 
passed. 

The  searching  scrutiny  of  my  face  when  I  had 
asked  her  to  go  into  the  forecastle,  and  back  of  this, 
the  stony  expression  of  her  own  face  when  I  had 
disagreed  with  her  about  the  riding  line — these 
things  certainly  came  of  her  distrust  of  my  compe- 
tence; but  why  was  she  so  severe?  Her  dictatorial 
X38 


Polarity 

manner  on  the  run  out  was  strictly  compatible  with 
her  superior  seamanship,  but  why  had  she  called  me 
a  fool?  I  was  sure  that  she  had — just  for  slipping 
the  cable.  Do  accidents  and  mistakes  never  occur 
at  sea?  What  had  changed  her  so — she  so  kind 
and  gracious,  who  had  shown  a  preference  for  my 
society,  so  delicately  indicated,  yet  so  marked  that 
it  had  led  me  to  hope  that  she  loved  me — that  had 
induced  me  to  dare  the  conventionalities  and  ask 
for  her  hand  on  board  my  yacht;  and  that  proposal 
— what  had  I  said? 

Slowly  and  painfully  after  the  excitement — 
word  by  word — my  half -uttered  declaration  of  love 
came  back  to  me.  ^^  That  was  it,"  I  groaned;  ^^  that 
upset  her.  I  didn't  finish,  and  up  to  the  interrup- 
tion it  was  grossest  personal  flattery.  Great  heav- 
ens, can  I  undo  it?  It  was  insulting,  under  the 
circumstances.'' 

Before  midnight  I  had  decided  what  it  was  best 
to  do — finish  the  tale  of  love  at  the  first  opportunity 
and  set  my  motives  right;  and  no  matter  what  her 
reception  should  be,  to  repeat  it  again  and  again 
and  assume  such  a  dignity  and  treat  her  with  such 
deference  as  would  in  time  shame  her  out  of  her 
injustice  to  me — in  short,  to  live  it  down.  She 
was  worth  waiting  for. 

139 


shipmates 


This  question  settled,  other  things  demanded 
attention.  I  had  not  eaten  for  twelve  hours  and 
was  faint  with  hunger,  and  in  danger  of  pneumonia 
from  exposure.  Then,  too,  we  had  been  drifting 
half  the  night  without  showing  a  light.  With  as 
little  noise  as  possible,  I  procured  the  riding  light 
from  the  lamp  locker  in  the  forecastle — luckily 
finding  dry  matches  in  a  bunk — and  ran  it  up  on 
the  bight  of  the  staysail  halyards,  as  I  had  seen 
done  by  my  men.  Going  down  the  hatch  again, 
and  aft  into  the  pantry,  I  made  a  substantial  lunch 
after  warming  myself  with  a  glass  of  whisky. 

I  now  wanted  a  smoke;  but  the  cigars  in  my 
pocket  were  sodden.  Though  there  were  pipes  and 
tobacco  in  the  sailing-master's  room  and  the  fore- 
castle, I  had  always  a  distaste  for  another  man's 
pipe,  and  knew  that  I  should  not  like  the  tobacco. 
The  thought  of  my  own  fragrant  meerschaum  and 
Turkish  Mixture  on  my  stateroom  desk  led  me 
into  the  dark  cabin,  where  I  stopped  short;  for  my 
way  was  impeded  by  wet  skirts  and  other  clothing 
hanging  from  lines  stretched  across  the  room. 

With  two  to  choose  from.  Miss  Durand  would 

hardly  occupy  my  stateroom.     Her  nautical  mind 

would  enable  her  to  readily  distinguish  mine  by  its 

appurtenances  and  position  to  port,  from  the  vacant 

140 


Polarity 

stateroom  to  starboard.  Yet  I  must  make  no  mis- 
take; I  had  blundered  too  much  already.  I  re- 
mained perfectly  quiet  to  make  sure  of  her  where- 
abouts by  her  breathing,  but  heard  no  sound  other 
than  the  crashing  of  the  water  alongside.  She 
was  either  a  soft  sleeper,  or  she  was  wide  awake, 
listening.     The  latter  possibility  decided  me. 

''  Miss  Durand !  "  I  called  softly,  so  as  not  to 
waken  her  if  she  was  asleep.  "Are  you  awake? 
Which  room  are  you  in?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  She  was  evidently 
asleep,  I  thought,  and  probably — almost  certainly 
— in  the  spare  room.  The  craving  for  a  smoke  be- 
coming stronger  by  the  delay,  I  decided  to  step 
quietly  into  my  room,  secure  the  pipe,  and  decamp 
without  disturbing  her. 

As  I  passed  the  threshold  a  voice — a  low,  hard, 
unfeminine  voice — said,  "  You  scoundrel!  "  Then 
a  deafening  report  filled  my  ears  and  my  cap  left 
my  head,  while  the  room  was  lighted  by  an  instan- 
taneous flash  which  went  out  as  it  came,  leaving 
blacker  darkness  behind.  But  the  flash  had  dis- 
closed to  me  a  white,  set  face  with  gleaming  teeth 
between  parted  lips,  and  glittering  eyes  glancing 
along  the  barrel  of  a  revolver  held  by  a  shapely 
hand,  behind  which — in  the  berth  and  half -covered 
141 


Shipmates 


by  the  blanket — was  a  shapelier  arm  and  swelling 
white  shoulders  and  bust.  She  had  taken  my  room 
and  guarded  it  with  my  own  revolver,  which  had  a 
place  on  the  desk  beside  the  pipe. 

"  Miss  Durand,"  I  shouted,  "  don't  shoot  me. 
I  only  wanted  a  smoke — my  pipe  and  tobacco." 

"  Leave  this  cabin  as  you  value  your  life." 

I  left  it  and  floundered  into  the  forecastle, 
where  I  sat  on  a  locker,  trembling  in  every  limb,  per- 
spiring at  every  pore,  for  ten  minutes  before  capa- 
ble of  another  voluntary  action.  If  ever  in  my  life 
I  wanted  a  smoke  I  wanted  it  then,  and  when  I 
could,  fired  up  a  sailor's  pipe,  felt  of  a  furrow  in 
my  hair  over  a  hot  line  of  blistered  scalp,  and 
smoked  feverishly.  Under  the  influence  of  the  to- 
bacco I  soon  grew  calmer  and  went  on  deck.  There 
was  nothing  in  sight,  the  lamp  burned  brightly,  and 
the  gale  was  going  down,  so  I  descended,  for  the 
cold  wind  seemed  to  cut  me  to  the  bone. 

I  sat  on  the  locker  smoking  continuously  until 
daylight,  and  in  that  time  went  through  a  process 
of  retrospection  and  heart  dissection  that  no  man  is 
equal  to  until  face  to  face  with  some  great  calamity 
or  loss.  At  first  came  a  great  sadness,  and  back  of 
it  were  dead  memories  of  our  walks,  and  talks,  and 
dances  together,  in  which  her  sweet,  imperious 
142 


Polarity 


beauty  and  gracious  charm  of  manner  appealed  to 
me  to  make  excuses — to  forgive  her.  She  was  mis- 
taken, but  justifiably  so.  But  oftener  and  oftener 
as  I  brooded  and  called  up  these  memories  of  the 
past,  the  loveliness  and  softness  in  the  face  of  the 
vision  I  conjured  would  give  way  to  the  baleful 
combination  of  fear,  suspicion,  and  destructive  hate 
that  I  had  seen  by  the  pistol  flash.  Then  a  fury  of 
soul  possessed  me,  and  thoughts  came  to  me  of 
which  I  must  not  speak.  Then  melancholy,  and 
weakness  which  brought  tears;  then  a  permanent 
calm.  And  in  this  calm  I  forced  her  face  of  beauty 
from  me,  and  in  its  stead,  enshrined  in  hatred, 
placed  a  picture  that  I  meant  should  stay  forever — 
a  picture  of  gleaming  teeth  between  parted  lips, 
and  glittering,  murderous  eyes  in  a  white,  set  face. 
Then,  and  not  until  then,  I  perceived  the  grim 
humour  of  the  situation,  and  laughed  long  and 
loudly.  It  was  a  laugh  that  must  have  found  an 
echo  in  the  infernal  regions. 

At  daylight  I  went  on  deck.  The  gale  had  be- 
come a  gentle  breeze,  and  the  yacht  rolled  in  the 
trough  of  a  greasy  swell,  heaving  seaward.  The 
horizon  was  hidden  by  haze,  here  and  there  thick- 
ened to  genuine  fog,  and  overhead  was  promise  of 
a  bright  day  and  sunshine.  I  took  down  the  riding 
143 


shipmates 


light,  hauled  in  the  now  useless  drag,  and  lim- 
bered my  stiffened  joints  by  smartly  pacing  the 
deck.  In  about  an  hour  Miss  Durand  came  up  the 
companionway. 

She  had  made  the  best  toilet  possible,  but 
looked  wretched  and  ill.  Black  half  circles  were 
under  her  eyes,  and  her  pale  face,  besides  wearing 
the  expression  of  discomfort  following  the  recent 
donning  of  damp  clothing,  showed  pinched  and 
drawn,  indicating  a  sleepless  night.  But  any  pity 
I  might  have  felt  for  her  as  a  woman  was  for- 
bidden by  the  sight  of  my  revolver  tucked  into 
her  belt — obviously  to  keep  me  in  order.  With 
as  sarcastic  a  smile  as  I  could  assume  I  advanced 
and  said: 

''  Good-morning,  Miss  Durand.  I  see — pardon 
the  allusion — that  you  are  carrying  side-arms  to- 
day. Do  you  think  you  would  like  another  shot — 
a  daylight  shot — at  me?  " 

"  Up  to  the  time  I  heard  you  laughing,  sir,  I 
thought  one  shot  might  be  enough.  Be  assured 
that  the  next  time  I  shall  aim  lower  than  your 
cap." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  warning.  I  am  to  con- 
sider, I  suppose,  that  you  did  not  mean  to  kill  me. 
As  for  laughing.  Miss  Durand,"  I  added,  seriously, 
144 


Polarity 

"  believe  me,  I  was  not.  It  was  a  song  that  you 
heard — the  swan  song  of  a  shattered  ideal.  But  in 
your  own  behalf  will  you  not  say  something — 
something  that  will  explain  or  possibly  excuse  your 
shooting  at  a  man  who,  up  to  that  moment,  would 
have  defended  your  honour  and  safety  with  his  life, 
a  man  whose  only  fault  was  the  innocent  one  of  en- 
tering his  own  room  after  satisfying  himself  by 
your  silence  that  it  was  empty.  It  is  all  a  mystery, 
and  yet — I  wish  to  be  just." 

"  Mr.  Townsend,"  she  answered,  in  the  incisive 
tone  which  none  but  well-bred  women  can  assume, 
"  prior  to  your  admission  that  you  invited  me  on 
board  your  yacht,  and  sent  your  crew  ashore  in 
order  that  I  should  be  alone  with  you,  I  thought 
you  a  gentleman;  when  you  slipped  the  chain 
I  merely  thought  you  a  fool,  and,  I  believe, 
called  you  one  in  the  excitement  of  the  mo- 
ment; but  when  you  pretended  ignorance  of  a 
sea  anchor  and  then  constructed  one,  when  you 
purposely  wasted  one  stateroom  door  so  that  the 
other  must  be  taken  also,  I  concluded  that  you 
had  purposely  wasted  your  cable  as  well,  and  that 
you  were  a  quick-witted  \Tillain,  able  and  ready 
to  take  any  advantage  of  time,  weather,  or  cir- 
cumstance to  further  your  ends.  As  to  my  taking 
145 


shipmates 


your  room,  it  is  due  myself  to  say  that  I  found 

the  berth  in  the  other  drenched  with  water  from 

the  open  dead-light  above." 

She  had  explained  it  all.     On  the  evidence  of 

a  series  of  accidents  she  had  judged  me  guilty  of 
motives  for  which  men  have  been  lynched;  yet  her 
denunciation  brought  no  increase  of  anger  or  hu- 
miliation ;  I  was  beyond  reach  of  an  insult  from  her 
now;  only  the  terrible  humour  of  it  appealed  to 
me,  as  before,  and  again  I  laughed,  bitterly  and 
sardonically. 

"  I  see,"  I  said.  "  To  attempt  to  refute  this 
would  be  pure  folly.  I  shall  go  down  now  and  cook 
our  breakfast;  but  I  feel  that  after  the  experience 
of  the  night  and  your  expressed  intention  to  aim 
lower,  I  must  ask  you  to  place  my  pipe  and  tobacco- 
bag  on  the  cabin  table,  where  I  can  get  them  with- 
out risking  my  life." 

"  You  may  cook  what  you  wish  for  yourself," 
she  answered,  impassively.  "  I  shall  eat  what  I  can 
find  and  when  I  please.  Your  pipe  and  tobacco-bag 
you  will  find  in  the  binnacle,  where  you  placed 
them  yesterday." 

In  the  binnacle!     So  I  had — when  we  sat  to- 
gether at  the  anchorage  and  she  had  gently  hinted 
that  I  smoke  a  cigar,  as  less  likely  to  scent  her 
146 


Polarity 

clothing.  I  looked  in  and  found  both,  snug  and 
dry. 

^^  Miss  Durand/'  I  said,  "  I  must  assert,  on  my 
honour,  whether  you  believe  me  or  not,  that  I  had 
forgotten  this,  and  supposed  them  still  in  the  state- 
room." 

''  That  will  do,  sir;  I  do  not  care  to  discuss  the 
subject."  She  turned  her  back  to  me  as  she  said 
this,  and  I  went  forward,  for  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said. 

Down  below  I  made  a  startling  discovery.  I 
had  eaten  all  the  cold  meat  I  could  find  in  the  night, 
and  there  was  no  more  of  it;  and  beyond  four  or 
five  potatoes,  a  small  piece  of  bacon,  a  little  coffee, 
and  some  crackers — just  enough  for  a  meal — there 
was  no  food  in  the  yacht.  Why  the  steward  had 
allowed  the  provisions  to  get  so  low  I  could  not 
understand;  though  he  had  spoken  of  the  shortage, 
and  I  had  gladly  sent  him  ashore.  Sounding  the 
tank,  I  found  it  half  full.  "  Water  enough  for  a 
week,"  I  thought,  "  if  we  do  not  waste  it." 

I  lighted  a  fire,  cooked  what  I  had  found,  and 
set  the  table;  then,  stepping  on  deck,  invited  Miss 
Durand  to  precede  me  in  eating  her  share,  at  the 
same  time  apprising  her  of  the  state  of  the  larder. 
She  walked  away  from  me,  and  looked  over  the  taff- 
147 


Shipmates 


rail  without  answering.  Nothing  could  be  done 
with  such  a  girl,  so  I  ate  my  breakfast — putting 
her  half  in  the  oven — and  came  up.  She  immedi- 
ately descended,  and  I,  smoking  on  the  wheel-box, 
heard  again  the  rattle  of  dishes.  She  was  not  going 
hungry.  Soon  an  increase  of  smoke  from  the  gal- 
ley chimney  told  me  of  extra  fire  below. 

An  hour  later  she  came  up,  arrayed  in  the 
yacht's  ensign,  which,  with  the  pistol,  she  had 
belted  around  her.  It  was  large  enough  to  cover 
her,  and,  with  her  dark  eyes  and  hair,  I  confessed 
to  myself,  made  a  tasteful  combination  of  colour. 
In  one  hand  she  carried  a  bucket  of  steaming  water, 
and  in  the  other  her  dress — a  dark  wash-fabric — 
and  a  piece  of  soap. 

"  Miss  Durand,"  I  said,  as  I  realized  her  object, 
"  allow  me  to  suggest  that  we  are  not  yet  rescued, 
and  are  short  of  water,  as  well  as  of  food." 

"  Mind  your  own  business,"  she  snapped.  "  I 
am  not  going  to  look  like  a  fright."  I  smiled  and 
subsided.  She  washed  the  salt  from  the  dress, 
rinsed  it  with  more  fresh  water,  rigged  a  clothes- 
line between  the  fore  and  main  rigging,  and  hung 
it  up,  dripping,  so  that  it  would  dry  without  creas- 
ing— a  trick  she  must  have  learned  at  sea.  Then 
she  stood  a  moment,  musing,  and  went  down,  com- 
148 


Polarity 

ing  up  with  more  fresh  water  and  a  skirt,  which  she 
also  washed  and  hung  out.  Down  she  went  again 
— the  spirit  of  wash-day  was  upon  her — and  ap- 
peared with  a  garment,  which  I,  having  sisters, 
knew  for  a  corset-cover.  This  was  followed  by  the 
corset. 

Again  she  descended,  and  beginning  to  wonder 
where  this  young  woman  would  stop,  I  filled  my 
pipe  anew  and  took  a  position  where  I  could  gaze 
over  the  stem  while  she  flitted  back  and  forth  from 
bucket  to  cabin,  washing  out  and  hanging  up  what- 
ever was  next  on  the  list.  When  she  descended 
at  last  and  remained  longer  in  the  cabin,  I  ventured 
to  peep  forward.  Flying  balloon-like  in  the  morn- 
ing breeze  were  frilled  and  beribboned  garments — 
known,  I  believe,  under  the  generic  name  of  lin- 
gerie— a  generous  display,  which  lacked  but  stock- 
ings to  complete  the  list. 

Would  Miss  Durand  take  off  her  shoes  and 
stockings?  She  would,  and  did,  but  donned  instead 
my  sailing-master's  long  rubber  boots.  This  was 
gratifying,  and  I  breathed  a  bachelor  sigh  of  relief 
as  she  stumped  up  the  stairs  and  went  forward. 
Soon  the  stockings  were  added  to  the  wash,  and 
with  her  shoes,  garters,  and  belt — the  latter  re- 
placed by  a  piece  of  spun-yarn  rove  through  the 
149 


shipmates 


trigger-guard  of  the  pistol — well  rinsed  of  salt 
water  and  arranged  in  sunny  spots  on  the  hot  deck, 
she  stood  back  and  surveyed  her  work  with  the 
most  pleasant  expression  of  face  that  I  had  seen 
since  the  squall. 

"  Going  to  hang  yourself  up,  Miss  Durand? " 
I  asked,  with  a  malicious  grin. 

I  had  probably  been  farthest  from  her  thoughts 
— otherwise  she  might  not  have  tied  that  guardian 
weapon  so  firmly  to  her  waist — and  a  startled  look 
in  her  eyes  gave  way  to  one  of  angry  contempt. 
She  said  nothing,  but  walked  forward;  while  I, 
knocking  the  ashes  from  my  pipe,  began  pacing  the 
deck.  At  the  first  turn,  I  made  out,  directly  ahead, 
half  hidden  by  the  haze,  a  black  steamer.  Behind 
her  was  thicker  fog  from  which  she  had  come,  and 
ahead  of  her  was  more  into,  which  she  would  plunge 
in  less  than  ten  minutes.  She  was  crossing  our 
bow,  diagonally,  fully  three  miles  away — too  far 
to  see  us  with  no  canvas  set.  But  she  might  see  a 
flag.    Miss  Durand,  too,  had  observed  her. 

"  We  must  signal,"  I  said,  as  I  approached  her. 

"  You  have  a  cannon?  " 

"  But  no  powder.  You  must  go  below.  Miss 
Durand,  and  throw  the  ensign  into  the  forecastle 
where  I  can  get  it.''  A  blaze  of  scorn  came  from 
150 


Polarity 

her  eyes.  "  Go  down  below,  Miss  Durand/'  I  con- 
tinued, excitedly.  "  I  will  respect  your  privacy;  I 
will  return  you  the  ensign  or  your  clothes.  Hurry, 
please!  " 

"  I  will  not.    What  do  you  think?  " 

^^  Hang  it! ''I  yelled.  ^' Keep  the  pistol.  Go 
below  and  take  off  the  flag." 

"  I  will  not." 

"  Then,  by  Heaven!  I  know  what  TU  do.  Tve 
been  too  long  at  sea  with  you."  I  quickly  untied 
the  after  end  of  the  clothes-line  from  the  rigging, 
ran  forward  with  it — clothes  and  all — and  had 
fastened  it  to  one  end  of  the  fore-signal  halyards, 
when  she  said,  close  behind  me,  ^^  You  let  my 
things  alone!  "  Turning,  I  saw  her  struggling  with 
the  pistol,  trying  to  stretch  the  string  enough  to 
enable  it  to  bear  on  me. 

"  You  murdering  tigress!  "  I  growled  insanely. 
"  Shoot  me,  will  you?  " 

I  hardly  know  what  happened;  but  of  this  I  am 
sure,  for  it  is  all  that  I  remember  of  my  thoughts 
during  the  struggle :  I  used  no  more  force  than  was 
necessary  to  twist  the  pistol  from  her  hand  and 
hold  it  while  I  undid  the  granny's  knot — which 
she,  being  a  woman,  had  tied  in  the  spun-yarn. 
Whether  she  meant  to  shoot  me  or  not  I  can  not 
151 


shipmates 


say,  but  my  face  felt  the  heat  of  the  explosion 
which  occurred  as  she  resisted  me,  and  I  afterward 
found  grains  of  powder  embedded  in  the  skin. 

She  sank  down  on  the  cabin-trunk,  holding  her 
disordered  raiment  about  her  and  sobbing  hyster- 
ically, while  I  ran  the  wash  to  half-mast,  unbending 
the  forward  end  of  the  line  from  the  rigging,  and 
letting  it  go  up  with  the  other  part  of  the  halyards. 
Three  minutes  later  a  cloud  of  steam  left  the 
steamer,  followed  by  the  faint  toot  of  her  whistle. 
We  were  seen,  and  I  walked  aft,  too  enraged  to 
offer  to  lower  the  clothes. 

Still  sobbing,  she  arose,  recaptured  and  donned 
her  spun-yarn  belt,  cast  off  the  turns  from  the  be- 
laying-pin,  and  with  shaking,  bungling  fingers 
hauled  down  on  the  signal  halyards  and  untied  the 
knot  at  the  lower  end  of  the  clothes-line.  In  doing 
so,  she  released  the  other  part  of  the  halyards,  and 
a  fresher  puff  of  wind  coming  with  a  weather  roll 
of  the  yacht,  this  part  went  aloft  with  a  whir,  jerk- 
ing the  end  from  her  fingers  just  as  she  had  cleared 
the  knot.  She  sprang  frantically  to  catch  it,  re- 
leased her  hold  on  the  clothes-line,  then  turned  and 
gazed  blankly  at  her  apparel  dropping  gently  on 
the  surface  of  the  smooth  swell  thirty  feet  to  lee- 
ward, 

152 


Polarity 

I  was  a  man — though  an  angry  one — and  she 
a  woman,  conquered,  frightened  to  tears,  and  ar- 
rayed in  most  unconventional  raiment;  and  I  would 
have  rescued  her  clothing  had  I  been  able  to;  but 
both  boats  were  ashore,  I  could  not  swim,  and 
nothing  on  board  would  reach.  Too  proud  to  ap- 
peal to  me,  she  seated  herself  again,  with  a  face 
white  and  stony  as  marble — a  statue-like  image  of 
misery  and  despair.  Before  the  steamer  was  within 
hailing  distance,  the  last  bubble  from  the  sunken 
clothing  had  burst  on  the  surface. 

The  steamer  was  one  of  the  two-masted,  single- 
funnelled  passenger  boats  which  ply  up  and  down 
the  coast,  and  her  rail  was  lined  with  men,  women, 
and  children,  as  she  surged  up  and  stopped  along- 
side. 

^^  What's  the  trouble  ?  "  sang  out  a  uniformed 
captain  on  her  bridge. , 

"  Blown  out  yesterday  by  a  squall — no  can- 
vas, no  grub,  and  very  little  water.  Can  you  tow 
me  in?'' 

"  We're  bound  to  Boston.    How'U  that  do? " 

"How  far?" 

"  'Bout  a  hundred  miles." 

"  Have  you  a  stewardess  on  board?  '^ 

"  Yes." 

11  153 


Shipmates 


"  Very  well.  I  want  passage  in  for  this  lady, 
with  what  care  and  clothing  she  may  require;  and 
I  want  a  man  to  help  me  steer,  and  grub  and  water 
for  both.     How  much?" 

He  named  a  figure,  which,  though  high,  I  was 
willing  to  pay  and  acceded  to.  The  steamer's  main 
gaff  was  guyed  out  with  one  vang,  the  tackle  of  the 
other  singled  up,  and  a  chair  hung  to  the  end  and 
lowered  to  our  deck. 

"  Now,  Miss  Durand,"  I  asked,  "  are  you 
ready? '' 

"  I  don't  want  to  go !  "  she  moaned.  "  I  can 
not — I  can  not — all  those  men!  "  She  burst  out 
crying  again. 

"  Miss  Durand,"  I  said,  gravely,  but  firmly, 
^^you  must;  there  is  no  food  on  board.  I  am  re- 
sponsible for  your  being  here,  and  will  see  that  you 
are  clothed  and  sent  to  your  father ;  but  you  are  re- 
sponsible for  your  present  condition,  and  also  for 
the  fact  that  I  am  anxious  to  end  our  association. 
I  was  about  to  ask  you  to  become  my  wife  when  the 
squall  prevented  me.  I  am  glad  now  that  it  did 
so.  You  have  misunderstood  my  most  inno- 
cent actions,  misjudged  me,  insulted  me,  wronged 
me — as  well  as  wronged  yourself — and  twice 
you  have  attempted  my  life.  You  must  leave 
154 


Polarity 

my  yacht — for  your  own  sake  as  much  as  for 
mine/' 

She  dried  her  eyes  with  a  comer  of  the  flag, 
arose  to  her  feet,  and  said,  simply,  though  not 
humbly,  "  I  will  go/' 

Ten  minutes  later  she  had  been  swung  over  the 
steamer's  rail,  and  a  sailor,  with  a  breaker  of  water 
and  a  basket  of  assorted  food,  was  lowered  in  the 
chair.  A  hawser  was  then  dropped  to  us,  which 
we  took  in  through  the  hawse-pipe,  and  one  bell 
was  rung  in  the  engine-room. 

"  Say,"  called  the  captain,  as  the  steamer 
forged  ahead,  "  what  colours  did  you  signal  with? 
I  couldn't  make  'em  out." 

Hesitating  for  a  moment,  I  answered:  "  Flags 
of  all  nations." 

But  I  doubt  that  he  understood,  though  a  pe- 
culiar buzzing  sound,  as  of  collective  laughter, 
arose  from  the  group  of  passengers  nearest  to  Miss 
Durand. 

I^ext  morning,  at  Boston,  I  handed  my  yacht 
over  to  a  caretaker,  and  telegraphed  my  sailing- 
master  to  come  on  with  the  crew  and  sails.  On 
inquiry,  I  learned  that  Miss  Durand  had  found 
friends  on  the  steamer,  who  fitted  her  out  and  sent 
her  home  to  her  father. 

155 


shipmates 


I  met  that  breezy  old  man  later  on,  and  was 
prepared  for  anything  from  a  broadside  of  abuse 
to  a  caning;  but,  to  my  amazement,  he  thanked 
me  warmly  for  my  chivalrous  care  of  his  daughter, 
and  congratulated  me  on  my  skill  in  handling  the 
yacht,  particularly  as  regarded  the  rigging  of  the 
sea  anchor;  which  chivalry  and  skill  I  did  not  dare 
disclaim. 

I  have  also  met  Miss  Durand — in  society — 
charming,  gracious  as  ever  she  had  been — and  actu- 
ally received  an  apology  and  plea  for  forgiveness, 
which  I  cheerfully  granted,  as  I  had  long  since 
overcome  my  resentment,  and  measured  the 
trouble  by  my  discarded  Theory — now  reclaimed 
and  firmly  enthroned.  And,  as  time  went  on,  I 
found,  by  certain  indications  in  her  eyes  and  voice, 
that  my  former  attentions  might  be  welcome — 
that,  in  spite  of  the  brutality  of  conduct  she  had 
forced  me  to,  I  had  not  lost  ground  in  that  trip, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to  stand  higher  than 
ever  in  her  estimation.  Was  it  because  she  had 
reasoned  out  the  injustice  she  had  done  me?  Or 
was  it  because  I  had  proved — animal-like  in  my 
strength  and  rage,  yet  thoroughly — that  mine  was 
the  master  nature,  and  she,  queenly  woman  that 
she  was,  needed  this  proof  before  her  love  was  pos- 
156 


Polarity 

sible?  I  do  not  know.  The  question  involves  the 
inscrutability  of  the  feminine  heart — a  problem 
that  antedates  human  experience  and  is  not  yet  re- 
duced to  law. 

I  have  a  wife  now.  She  is  timid  and  gentle, 
with  the  shiniest  of  golden  hair  and  bluest  of  eyes. 
She  likes  yachting,  is  anxious  to  learn  of  the  sea, 
and  I  teach  her  all  that  I  know  (she  has  just  mas- 
tered the  theory  of  sea  anchors),  while  she  studies 
deeply  in  nautical  lore  and  fiction.  But  on  one 
point — our  nearest  approach  to  a  difference  of 
opinion — ^we  are  not  in  complete  accord:  She  en- 
joys the  sea  tales  of  W.  Clark  Eussell,  and  says 
that  they  are  just  lovely — which  is  true — ^but, 
somehow,  I  can  not  abide  them. 


157 


A  TALE  OF  A  PIGTAIL 


One  of  the  finest  specimens  of  Chinese  anatomy 
I  had  ever  seen  came  down  the  rickety  wharf, 
climbed  my  little  schooner's  rail,  and,  approaching 
the  poop,  where  the  mate  and  I  sat  smoking,  asked 
me  for  a  berth.  He  was  nearly  six  feet  tall,  well 
built,  handsome  in  a  Chinese  way,  and  he  wore  at 
full  length  down  his  back  as  long,  thick,  and  glossy 
a  queue  as  might  be  found  in  all  Shanghai.  Be- 
sides, he  was  well  dressed,  and  smiled  in  a  very  well- 
bred,  intelligent  manner.  He  did  not  look  like  a 
waterman  or  a  sailor;  but  as  I  was  a  man  short  I 
considered  his  application. 

"  What  can  do?  "  I  asked  in  the  pidgin-English 
of  the  seaports. 

^^  Can  do,"  he  answered;  "Ling  Sum,  name. 
Velly  much  able  seaman." 

"  Can  steer?  Can  splice  rope?  Can  box  com- 
pass? " 

"Plenty  good  sailo'man.  Makee  long  splice, 
159 


Shipmates 


slio'  splice.  Box  compass.  No',  no'  by  eas',  no' 
no'  eas',  no'  eas'  by  no' " 

''That's  good,"  I  interrupted.  "Savvy 
ropes?" 

He  put  out  his  hand  on  the  main-sheet  and 
named  it.  Then  he  pointed  to  the  foremast,  jib- 
boom,  and  various  parts  of  the  vessel,  calling  their 
names  correctly,  and  giving  other  evidence  of  nau- 
tical erudition  far  in  advance  of  that  of  the  rest 
of  my  crew. 

''  Try  him  on  knots,  cap'n,"  said  the  mate. 
"  A  square  knot's  the  test  o'  Chinese  sailorizin'." 

Somehow,  out  of  his  experience,  Mr.  Jack  Mac- 
donald,  my  mate,  had  evolved  the  theory  that  a 
woman  and  a  Chinaman  can  not  tie  a  square  knot, 
without  laborious  instruction — their  instincts  im- 
pelling them  to  make  a  granny's  knot.  A  square 
knot  is  the  simplest  of  knots.  Bring  the  two  ends 
of  string  or  rope  together,  lay  one  over  the  other, 
wind  it  around  underneath  and  bring  it  up;  then 
bring  the  ends  together  again  and  repeat  the  opera- 
tion, but  reverse  it — that  is,  if  you  laid  the  right- 
hand  end  over  the  other  in  the  first  knotting,  lay 
the  left-hand  end  over  the  right  in  the  second.  The 
result  is  a  shipshape  square  or  reef  knot  which  a 
trained  sailor  would  tie  in  his  sleep;  but  if  you  do 
160 


A  Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


not  reverse  the  easting  of  the  second  knot,  you  have 
a  slippery  granny's  knot.  As  I  had  been  to  much 
trouble  in  teaching  my  Chinese  crew  to  knot  reef- 
points  correctly,  and  as  I  never  had  known  a  woman 
who  could  keep  her  shoestrings  tied,  I  admitted  the 
logic  of  Jack's  contention,  and  put  Ling  Sum 
through  the  knots.  He  tied  correctly  a  bowline 
knot,  a  becket  and  a  carrick  bend,  a  clove  hitch, 
rolling  hitch,  timber  hitch,  and  all  the  working- 
knots  used  at  sea  except  the  last  one  named  to  him 
— Jack's  test  knot.  Ling  Sum  quickly  and  smil- 
ingly tied  a  granny's  knot. 

"  We  can  teach  him  that.  Jack,"  I  said  to  my 
scornful  and  triumphant  mate.  "  He  seems  to  be  a 
good  Chinaman. — Got  any  discharges?  "  I  asked  of 
the  applicant.     "  Any  paper  talk?  " 

He  pulled  out  a  letter  and  gave  it  to  me  with 
the  proud  air  of  a  good  boy  showing  a  favourable 
school  report.     It  read  thus: 

^^  To  whom  it  may  concern.  This  scoundrel  is 
no  doubt  the  greatest  liar  and  thief  unbeheaded.  He 
claims  to  be  a  sailor;  if  so,  he  is  a  Pei  Ho  pirate. 
He  worked  a  week  in  the  British  legation,  stole  all 
that  was  portable,  proved  himself  innocent,  and  was 
discharged  on  general  principles  and  to  save  the 
161 


Shipmates 


legation.     He  asks  for  a  character,  and  I  cheerfully 
give  it.  Robert  Walpole, 

'  ConsTiFs  Clerk,  Shanghai." 


a  i 


Though  I  read  this  aloud  to  the  mate,  its  long 
words  and  grammatical  construction  made  it  an 
unknown  tongue  to  the  Chinaman,  who  said,  as  I 
handed  it  back: 

"  Velly  good  man,  Mis'  Walpo'.  Velly  good 
flien'  Ling  Sum." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  He  says  you're  a  very 
good  Chinaman.  I  suppose  you  are.  You're  all 
alike.  Go  for  your  clothes.  We  go  down  to  Wu 
Sung  next  tide." 

He  went  away  and  returned  in  an  hour 
with  his  working  clothes — one  suit  tied  up  in 
a  handkerchief.  I  had  no  scruples  in  shipping  him, 
for  I  already  had  five  choice  thieves  in  my  fore- 
castle and  did  not  balk  at  a  sixth.  But  Ling  Sum 
was  persona  non  grata  with  the  others  at  once. 
It  was  his  own  fault;  he  was  far  and  away  their 
mental  and  physical  superior,  and  barring  the  mat- 
ter of  the  granny's  knot,  the  best  seaman  of  them 
all;  but  he  chose  to  ignore  this  legitimate  right  to 
his  own  way  among  them,  and  to  base  his  attitude 
on  his  orthodoxy.  I  heard  suspicious  sounds  at  sup- 
162 


A   Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


per  time — squealings,  ehatterings  and  jarrings — 
arising  from  the  forecastle  hatch,  but  did  not  in- 
terfere, having  learned  that  no  one  but  a  China- 
man can  settle  a  Chinese  row.  However,  on 
the  way  down  the  river  that  evening,  I  asked  Yum 
Too,  who  came  aft  to  the  wheel  with  a  large 
lump  on  his  forehead,  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
sounds. 

''  Him  velly  bad  Chinaman,"  he  answered,  as 
he  took  the  wheel  and  the  course.  ''  Him  Ling 
Sum  velly  good  sailo'man — velly  much  fore  side. 
Him  no  care  this.  Him  talkee  'ligion  all  time. 
Got  queue — velly  much  pleased.  No  care  for 
Chinaman  no  got  queue.  Hittee  him  belayin'-pin. 
What  manner  fashion  that?" 

From  which  I  gathered  that  Ling  Sum  had  been 
reproving  his  shipmates  for  their  apostasy  from 
Chinese  religion.  Long  acquaintance  and  contact 
with  foreigners  in  the  seaports,  and  possibly  a 
former  conversion  to  Christianity,  had  resulted  in 
their  losing  their  pigtails  and  growing  hair  like 
other  human  beings.  Kenegades  they  were,  and  in 
danger  of  assault  in  the  inland  towns.  Ling  Sum 
had  merely  upheld  the  ancient  traditions  of  his 
race;  but,  as  it  was  a  matter  affecting  discipline, 
I  called  him  aft  and  admonished  him,  flourishing 
163 


Shipmates 


a  belaying-pin  menacingly  in  his  smiling  face  as 
I  spoke. 

But  lie  denied  all  unworthy  intent,  and  swore 
by  the  graves  of  his  fathers — even  though  the  rest 
of  the  crew  came  aft  with  bruises  and  contusions  to 
refute  him — that  he  was  a  well-meaning  stranger 
among  the  wicked,  that  they  had  objected  to  his 
fine  clothes,  to  his  education,  to  his  queue,  and 
had  reviled  him,  and  his  father  and  mother,  and 
all  his  family,  because  of  his  ignorance  of  a  certain 
mysterious  knot  which  they  had  learned  (it  seems 
they  had  found  his  weakness);  and  for  this  he 
had  given  them  kind  words  and  forgiveness  until 
forced  to  defend  himself  from  their  combined  as- 
sault. As  he  could  not  show  a  bruise  or  a  scratch 
to  bear  out  his  testimony,  and  as  the  chatter  of 
protest  was  deafening,  I  chased  them  forward  to 
settle  it  as  they  could. 

There  was  no  further  trouble  that  night.  We 
reached  Wu  Sung,  at  the  junction  of  the  Wu  Sung 
river  with  the  Yangtze  Kiang,  before  dark,  found 
a  berth,  and  having  set  the  anchor  watches — a  mat- 
ter of  form,  for  my  crew  invariably  slept  on  watch 
— Jack  and  I  turned  in.  ^NTothing  moved  at  night 
in  that  narrow  and  crowded  passage,  and  there  was 
no  danger  from  collision.  As  for  thieves,  though 
164 


A  Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


we  placed  no  confidence  in  the  integrity  of  the 
crew,  we  did  in  loaded  revolvers  placed  under  our 
pillows,  and  in  our  well-established  reputation  along 
the  river  for  willingness  to  use  them  on  strange 
Chinamen.  Besides,  there  was  nothing  stealable 
in  the  schooner  of  greater  value  than  loose  belay- 
ing-pins,  pump  brakes  and  buckets,  except  at  such 
times  as  I  received  my  freight  money  too  late  for 
banking;  then  I  took  it  to  bed  with  me  and  slept 
lightly. 

This  happened  on  the  following  day,  after  we 
had  discharged  cargo  into  a  lighter.  I  received  it 
in  silver  bullion  and  Mexican  dollars,  packed  in  a  six 
by  six  square  box  of  lacquer,  the  loose  cover  of 
which  was  held  down  by  a  silken  cord,  crossed  and 
knotted  as  a  grocer  ties  up  a  package.  Sam  Tung, 
as  sinful-looking  a  thief  as  I  ever  saw,  was  the 
only  one  on  deck  when  I  came  aboard  at  dark, 
and  I  could  tell  by  the  slight  change  in  his  seamy 
countenance  that  he  had  seen  the  box  in  my  hand 
and  knew  of  its  contents. 

"  All  right,  my  gentleman,"  I  muttered  as  I 
walked  aft.  "  It'll  pay  you  to  stick  to  your  end  of 
the  schooner  to-night." 

Before  turning  in,  I  told  Jack  to  stand  by  for  a 
call,  apprising  him  of  the  presence  of  the  money 
165 


Shipmates 


and  its  hiding-place — in  mj  bunk.  But,  as  usual, 
with  my  freight  money  aboard,  I  could  not  go  to 
sleep,  and  twice  that  night  I  arose  and  sought  the 
deck  for  a  cooling  smoke.  My  first  visit  was  at  a 
quarter  past  one,  and  Ah  Wen,  on  watch  from  one 
o'clock  to  two  forty,  was  dozing  over  the  windlass 
bitt.  I  awakened  him,  not  too  gently,  and  learned 
that  he  had  relieved  Ling  Sum,  the  new  man,  and 
would  be  followed  by  Sam  Tung,  the  one  who  had 
observed  the  box.  I  hoped  that  Sam's  Chinese  in- 
stincts had  prevented  him  from  speaking  of  the 
box  and  arranging  a  combined  raid  on  the  cabin; 
and,  though  I  would  have  felt  easier  if  he  had 
already  stood  his  anchor  watch,  I  knew  that  a 
Chinaman,  aware  that  he  is  under  suspicion,  be- 
comes not  only  useless,  but  at  times  dangerous;  so 
I  made  no  change  in  the  watches.  I  turned  in 
again,  dozed  until  three,  and  again  came  on  deck. 
Sam  Tung  was  snoring  on  the  forehatch,  and  judg- 
ing him  safest  asleep,!  went  below, lighted  the  cabin 
lamp,  shaded  it  from  Jack's  door,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
turb him,  and  read  for  a  while  at  the  table.  Then 
I  fell  asleep  in  the  chair,  and  awakened  shortly 
after  in  utter  darkness. 

Keyed  up  as  I  was  that  night,  it  did  not  take 
many  seconds  for  me  to  realize  where  I  was,  that 
166 


A  Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


the  cabin  lamp  ought  to  be  burning,  and  that  there 
was  somebody  in  the  cabin;  a  dark  mass  on  the 
floor  was  slowly  moving  toward  the  forward 
passage. 

^'Turn  out,  Jack,"  I  called;  "here's  a  thief! 
Get  your  gun!  " 

I  heard  his  answer  as  I  sprang  for  the  man  on 
the  floor,  and  as  the  fellow  clenched  me  and  we 
rolled  about,  I  heard  Jack  yell:  "Pistol's  gone, 
cap'n.     Hold  on,  I'll  help  you." 

"  Get  mine — under  my  pillow,"  I  called  with 
difficulty,  for  though  I  was  heavily  built,  my  bur- 
glar was  a  wrestler,  strong  and  lively.  Jack  bound- 
ed across  the  cabin  to  my  room  and  then  shouted: 
"  ISTot  here.     Hold  him  till  I  get  my  knife  out." 

"  I've  got  him  down,"  I  answered,  my  knee  on 
the  fellow's  chest  and  my  fingers  at  his  throat. 
"  Give  me  your  knife  and  light  the  lamp." 

I  received  the  opened  jack-knife,  and  while 
Jack  fumbled  for  matches,  pressed  the  point  on 
my  man's  throat,  and  said  sharply:  "  Lie  quiet, 
or  I'll  drive  it  in." 

So  far  he  had  not  spoken,  but  the  touch  of  that 

cold,  sharp  steel  brought  out  an  ear-splitting  shriek, 

and  developed  in  him  a  strength  that  I  was  not 

prepared  for.     He  gripped  my  hand  in  both  of  his 

167 


shipmates 


and  wrenched  the  knife  away  from  me.  With  a 
violent  wriggle  side  wise,  he  managed  to  bring  one 
foot  up  under  my  stomach;  then  I  was  lifted  and 
hurled  back  against  the  table;  and  before  I  could 
recover,  saw  him  scramble  to  his  feet  and  dart  out 
the  forward  passage.  But  in  that  sudden  wrench- 
ing of  the  knife  out  of  my  hands  I  had  felt  it  cut 
into  his  throat.  It  would  identify  him,  I  thought, 
and  was  comforted;  for  in  the  short  struggle  my 
hands  had  not  reached  the  top  of  his  head,  which 
would  have  cleared  or  branded  one,  at  least. 

My  first  thought  was  of  the  box.  It  was  in  my 
bunk,  tied  up,  but  empty,  as  I  ascertained  by  shak- 
ing it.  In  the  passage,  toward  which  the  thief  was 
crawling  when  I  awakened,  were  our  pistols,  side 
by  side.  Having  left  the  box  in  the  bunk,  no 
doubt,  to  delay  discovery  of  the  theft  of  its  con- 
tents, it  may  have  been  his  intention  to  replace 
the  pistols  for  the  same  reason.  But  before  we 
could  speculate  on  this  there  arose  from  forward  a 
screaming  and  yelling  in  pidgin-English,  which 
brought  us,  pistols  in  hand,  to  the  forward  door. 
Our  crew,  the  whole  six,  were  coming  aft — Ling 
Sum  and  Sam  Tung  in  the  van — and  each  held 
his  hand  to  his  throat  and  chattered  frantically. 

"  Stand  where  you  are,"  I  ordered  as  I  levelled 
168 


A   Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


my  pistol,  and  they  halted  in  the  glare  of  light 
from  the  open  door.     "  Now,  what's  the  matter?  " 

They  all  showed  me  their  throats,  in  each  of 
which  was  a  small  wound,  and  out  of  the  babel 
of  explanation  and  protest  which  arose,  I  gathered 
that  they  had  been  stabbed  in  their  sleep  by  some 
one,  who  had  then  escaped  from  the  forecastle  in 
the  darkness;  that  Sam  Tung,  on  anchor  watch, 
standing  erect  on  the  forehatch,  looking  ahead,  was 
the  first  to  suffer;  and,  having  received  his  wound 
from  some  one  who  approached  from  behind,  he 
had  only  time  to  observe  a  dark  figure  darting 
down  the  forecastle  hatch.  Which  I  mentally  stig- 
matized as  a  lie;  for  if  Sam  Tung  was  the  thief 
he  had  received  his  cut  in  the  cabin,  and  if  he 
was  innocent,  and  awake  on  the  hatch,  he  would 
have  heard  the  uproar  aft  and  would  have  been 
looking  that  way. 

"  Come  down  below,  all  of  you,"  I  said,  and 
we  mustered  around  the  cabin  table.  I  examined 
the  cuts,  found  that  none  was  serious,  and  told 
them  so.  Then  we  searched  them,  but  found  noth- 
ing of  value — not  even  Jack's  knife.  Their  cloth- 
ing, in  which  they  slept,  like  all  sailors,  was  so 
soiled  that  none  gave  signs  of  additional  stains 
from  the  dust  of  the  cabin  floor,  and  their  faces 
12  169 


shipmates 


all  wore  a  common  expression  of  injury  and 
wonder. 

'^  Now,  look  here/'  I  said  sternly,  ''  one  bad 
Chinaman  here.  Come  aft,  turn  out  lamp,  takee 
two  pistol  from  bunks — put  down  on  floor;  takee 
box  from  bunk,  takee  money  from  box,  put  box 
back  in  bunk  all  tied  up  allee  same ;  go  for  get  pis- 
tols to  puttee  back  in  bunk,  wakee  me  up ;  I  fight,  I 
make  little  cut  in  throat;  bad  Chinaman  run  away 
with  knife;  cuttee  Sam  Tung,  go  down,  cuttee  one, 
two,  three,  four — allee  same  place — allee  so  make 
all  same — so  no  one  can  tell  which  bad  Chinaman. 
Chinamen  all  stay  here — in  morning  all  go  jail,  all 
six  Chinamen." 

Mighty  vociferation  arose  from  the  six,  which 
I  silenced  with  the  levelled  revolver.  Then  they 
scanned  each  other's  faces,  and  I  watched  closely 
for  a  telltale  expression,  but  not  a  face  betrayed  its 
owner.  At  last  Jack  approached  and  whispered  in 
my  ear:  ''  Was  the  box  tied  up?  One  of  'em  ties 
granny's  knots." 

I  bounded  into  my  room  and  examined  the 
knot  in  the  silken  cord.  There  it  was— a  lubberly 
granny,  which  no  sailor  should  tie.  Securing  a 
pair  of  handcuffs,  I  nodded  to  Jack  through  the 
door,  and  he  immediately  covered  Ling  Sum  with 
170 


A  Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


his  gun.  Then  I  ironed  the  gentleman,  in  spite 
of  his  declarations  of  innocence,  and,  re-entering 
my  room,  brought  out  the  box,  held  it  in  the  lamp- 
light, and  silently  pointed  to  the  knot.  They 
crowded  around,  peered  at  it,  and  then  arose  the 
mightiest  outburst  of  Chinese  billingsgate  that  I 
had  ever  heard.  They  surrounded  the  captive,  and 
in  their  native  tongue  told  him  their  opinion  of 
him.  We  knew  what  it  was  by  the  unmistakable 
scorn,  derision,  contempt,  and  anger  in  their  voices, 
by  the  vicious  slaps  they  gave  his  face,  and  the 
vicious  tugs  they  gave  his  beautiful  pigtail;  and 
Sam  Tung,  as  became  the  betrayed,  was  the  noisi- 
est; Ling  shook  his  manacled  hands  and  wagged  his 
head  in  protest;  but  they  brought  the  box  under 
his  nose,  pointed  out  the  disgraceful  hitch,  and 
renewed  their  upbraidings.  The  face  of  Ling  Sum 
changed  as  he  realized  what  had  convicted  him, 
and  he  hung  his  head  dejectedly  until  the  last 
Chinese  anathema  had  rung  out  and  quivered  into 
silence;  then  he  looked  reproachfully  at  me  and 
said: 

"  Ling  Sum  tie  knots  chop-chop  velly  good — no 
tie  number  one  knot  all  samee  Melican.  No  see — 
no. can  see,  how  can  do.  No  tell  Ling  Sum — how 
can  tie  knot.'' 

171 


Shipmates 


"  Why,  you  bloody-minded  thief!  "  I  rejoined 
hotly,  while  Jack  roared  with  laughter,  "  do  you 
blame  me  for  this?  Think  I  ought  to  have  taught 
you  that  knot,  eh?  and  then  you  wouldn't  have  got 
caught.     TouVe  a  wonderful  nerve.'' 

"  If  no  can  see,  no  can  do." 

"  Where's  the  money?  " 

"  Ling  Sum  no  hab  got." 

"  Ling  Sum  goes  to  jail  chop-chop.  Chop-chop: 
Ling  Sum  no  got  head."  I  drew  my  hand  across 
my  throat  suggestively;  but  I  doubt  that  it  was  the 
reference  to  losing  his  head  that  aifected  him;  for 
he  must  have  known  that  he  was  in  no  danger  of 
his  life  for  robbing  a  foreigner.  But  I  think  he 
was  wanted  in  jail  for  some  greater  crime,  and 
that  he  feared  an  investigation  into  his  history, 
for  when  I  added,  "  Ling  Sum  tell  where  money 
is,  Ling  Sum  no  go  to  jail,"  he  looked  at  me  quickly 
and  said: 

"  Ling  Sum  step  on  bundle  'longside  main 
hatch.     No  can  tell — plaps  bundle  got  money." 

"  Go  out  and  get  it,  Jack,"  I  said  joyfully. 
Jack  went  out  and  returned  with  the  ship's  ditty- 
bag,  which  had  once  held  the  twine,  palms  and 
needles,  wax,  eyelets  and  the  odds-and-ends  used  in 
sailmaking;  but  it  now  held  my  silver,  and  at  its 
172 


A  Tale  of  a  Pigtail 


mouth  was  a  long  piece  of  spun-yarn,  convenient 
to  fasten  the  bag  to  the  neck  while  swimming 
ashore,  and  this  spun-yarn  was  knotted  granny- 
fashion. 

It  was  daylight  now,  and  sounds  were  arising 
from  the  wharves.  Turning  to  the  five  expectant 
Chinamen  so  curiously  cleared  of  suspicion,  I  said: 
"  Yum  Foo,  Wang  Sing,  Ah  Wen,  Wing  Lung, 
Sam  Tung — all  good  Chinamen — no  steal,  no  lie  " 
— each  thief  of  the  five  nodded  his  head  in  smiling 
affirmation  of  this  lie — "  Ling  Sum  very  bad 
Chinaman;  steal,  lie,  cut  throat — some  time  go  to 
jail.  But  I  tell  him  he  not  go  now.  Savvy? 
Still,  Ling  Sum  must  get  punish.  Chinaman 
punish.     Savvy? " 

I  handed  the  key  of  the  handcuffs  to  Sam  Tung, 
and  motioned  them  to  the  door.  They  went,  lead- 
ing Ling  Sum,  and  Jack  and  I  cooked  our  break- 
fast. 

As  we  took  in  cargo  that  day  I  learned  that 
they  had  Ling  Sum  still  ironed,  secured  to  the 
pawl-post  in  the  forecastle,  and  on  questioning  one 
of  them,  was  answered  by  mysterious  mutterings 
about  Shanghai;  so,  supposing  that  Ling  Sum  was 
to  receive  a  good  "  basting  "  with  bamboos  up  the 
river,  I  dismissed  him  from  my  mind. 
173 


Shipmates 


At  Shanghai  we  discharged,  took  in  cargo  for 
Chapu,  in  Hangchau  Bay,  and  sailed  down  the 
river.  As  we  passed  the  last  wharf  of  the  Ameri- 
can quarter,  my  crew — all  but  Ah  Wen,  who  had 
the  wheel  and  seemed  intensely  excited — went  be- 
low. Then  there  arose  such  an  agonized  wail  as 
only  an  afflicted  Chinaman  can  emit,  and  up  the 
forecastle  hatch  came  Ling  Sum,  minus  his  queue, 
and  grasping  wildly  at  the  short  stump  left.  "With 
eyes  blazing,  and  scream  after  scream  coming  from 
his  throat,  he  raced  aft,  then  forward,  aft  again, 
and  with  a  wild  whoop  went  overboard.  When 
he  appeared  on  the  surface,  he  struck  out  for  the 
right  bank,  yelling  occasionally,  and  as  he  made 
good  progress,  I  forebore  attempting  a  rescue. 

His  queue  will  grow  in  time;  but  until  it  does 
he  is  a  creature  far  below  the  animals — as  low, 
and  as  vile,  and  as  worthy  of  death  as  the  wickedest 
foreign  devil. 


174 


THE  MAN  AT  THE   WHEEL 


He  and  I  were  the  only  Americans  in  the  fore- 
castle; but  he  had  been  shanghaied,  while  I  had 
shipped  willingly.  Yet  though  he  had  come  aboard 
drunk  as  the  drunkest,  he  was  the  one  man  forward 
who  had  escaped  friction  with  the  mates  while  they 
were  taking  our  measures  on  the  first  day  out. 
This  immunity  was  not  due  to  his  nationality,  for 
I,  sober  from  the  start,  had  suffered  woefully — a 
black  eye  from  the  first  mate,  a  sore  head  from 
the  second,  and  unkind  words  from  the  skipper 
being  my  share  of  the  criticism. 

But  Fuller  was  an  able  seaman  in  the  highest 
degree.  Even  while  still  reeling  from  the  drink 
within  him,  he  displayed  a  knowledge  of  his  work, 
a  facility  of  anticipating  happenings,  and  a  readi- 
ness of  judgment,  speech,  and  action  that  was  al- 
most instinctive.  He  really  gave  the  officers  no 
possible  excuse  for  fault-finding,  and  when  he  had 
sobered  up,  gave  them  reason  for  strong  approval. 
Tall  and  straight,  with  broad,  square  shoulders  and 
175 


Shipmates 


a  phenomenal  depth  of  chest — slow  and  deliberate 
in  speech  and  manner  until  occasion  arose,  then 
quick  as  a  panther — with  a  voice  like  a  woman's 
in  conversation,  but  vibrant  and  resonant  as  a 
chime  whistle  when  calling  down  from  aloft — with 
bronzed,  refined  features,  heavy  black  mustache, 
and  kindly  eye  hiding  a  latent  sparkle — this  man 
gave  evidence  of  mental  and  physical  power  far 
above  his  needs  as  a  sailor,  and  which  suffered 
from  but  one  drawback;  he  himself  named  it — 
intemperance. 

He  spoke  but  little  in  the  watch  below,  and 
then,  usually,  as  a  peace-maker;  for,  until  men 
become  acquainted  a  ship's  crew  is  an  inharmonious 
muster.  Once  he  became  angry;  Tim,  a  bristly- 
faced  Liverpool  Irishman,  had  persistently  perse- 
cuted the  ordinary  seaman  Hans,  and  on  this  occa- 
sion had  planted  his  knuckles  under  Hans's  ear 
for  some  small  breach  of  forecastle  etiquette. 
Fuller  reached  his  long  right  arm  out  of  an  upper 
bunk,  seized  the  Irishman  by  the  collar  and  shook 
him  until  he  gasped,  then  dropped  him  in  a  heap. 
Tim  crawled  into  his  bunk  whispering  and  mut- 
tering curses,  and  Fuller  sat  up,  his  legs  dangling 
over  the  bunk  board. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  fellows  right  here,  once 
176 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

for  all/'  he  said,  looking  down  on  us,  '"  you're 
going  to  let  the  Dutchman  alone,  or  answer  to 
me."  ITo  one  spoke.  He  peered  at  us  all,  knocked 
the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and  continued: 

"Do  I  make  myself  plain?  This  is  for  all 
of  you.  With  one  exception  there's  not  a  whole 
sailorman  among  you."  (I  hoped  he  meant  me.) 
"  You  don't  know  your  work  on  deck;  you  get 
hammered  by  the  mates,  and  come  growling 
and  whining  round  the  beef -kid;  then  the  biggest 
of  you  hit  the  smaller.  Did  you  ever  think  that 
if  the  mates  had  less  to  bother  them  there'd  be 
less  billingsgate  and  belaying-pin  soup?  Why 
don't  you  learn  your  work?  Compare  notes;  teach 
one  another;  talk  about  sailorizing,  and  get  to  be 
of  some  use  on  deck." 

I  ventured  to  suggest  that  the  mates  hammered 
us  for  the  love  of  the  sport,  and  that  no  amount 
of  proficiency  would  save  us. 

"  There's  something  in  that,  I  know,"  he  an- 
swered more  mildly;  "but  in  any  case  only  the 
worst  of  you  would  catch  it.  Have  you  noticed 
that  I  haven't  been  struck,  or  called  out  of  my 
name  yet?  Well,  I  promise  you  that  I  won't.  I 
know  my  work  better  than  the  mates  know  theirs." 

I  was  silent. 

177 


Shipmates 


"  Another  thing/'  he  continued — and  his  voice 
gathered  strength.  "  I've  listened  to  the  talk  in 
this  forecastle  about  the  skipper's  wife.  Now,  he's 
a  brute,  of  course — a  whisky-soaked  brute — but 
she's  a  lady,  and  my  countrywoman.  Hear  that? 
My  countrywoman.  If  I  hear  her  spoken  of 
again  in  anything  but  terms  of  the  highest  respect 
I'll  send  that  man  aft  feet  first  for  treatment.  I'm 
an  American." 

He  rolled  back,  refilled  his  pipe  and  smoked 
silently.  I  also  was  an  American — not  long  from 
a  good  home — and  I  own  to  a  blush  of  shame  that 
I  had  not  protested  at  the  forecastle  discourse  con- 
cerning the  sweet-faced,  big-eyed  little  woman  who 
hovered  near  the  after  companionway  and  watched 
us  as  a  kitten  might  a  pack  of  dogs;  but  Fuller 
had  anticipated  me,  and  I  could  only  announce 
bravely,  "  I  stand  by  that." 

From  this  on,  though  he  resumed  his  quiet 
gentleness  of  manner,  he  dominated  the  forecastle 
so  thoroughly  that  there  was  no  further  need  of 
dictation.  Hans  enjoyed  immunity  from  assault 
and  the  captain's  wife  from  gossip;  we  took  turns 
at  cleaning  the  forecastle  and  attending  to  the 
food,  and  before  the  trades  were  reached  were  on 
fairly  good  terms. 

178 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

But  before  this  another  phase  of  Fuller's  char- 
acter was  shown  to  us — he  was  an  entertainer  of 
exceptional  ability.  We  were  all  impressed  by  his 
careful  choice  of  words — we  all  knew  that  here 
was  a  man  able  to  pass  muster  among  refined  people 
on  shore;  but  not  even  I,  fresh  from  the  public 
schools,  was  prepared  for  the  erudite  discourse  on 
history  and  science,  poetry  and  art,  which  he  gave 
us  one  watch,  inspired  by  the  grog  which  the  skip- 
per, with  drunken  generosity,  had  served  out  to 
all  hands  at  the  end  of  a  hard  reefing  match.  The 
liquor  had  warmed  our  stomachs  and  loosened  our 
tongues,  but  did  not  conduce  to  sleep;  and  it  began 
with  Tim's  comment  on  the  "  domfoolishness  of 
a  diwle  he'd  read  about  somewhere,"  who,  having 
been  cast  away  for  years,  returns  to  look  into  the 
window  of  his  home  and  see  his  wife  happy  in 
another  man's  love  and  another  man's  children. 
The  foolishness,  according  to  Tim,  was  in  going 
quietly  away  instead  of  inside,  to  "  kick  the  liver 
an'  lights  out  o'  the  other  man." 

^'  He  wuz  no  man,"  concluded  Tim,  "  to  jist 
look  in  the  windy  and  sneak.  An'  he  wuz  no  sailor- 
man,  ayether.  If  I  had  a  wife — Holy  Mother,  me 
wid  a  wife! — but  if  I  had  a  wife,  I  wudent  lose  her. 
Begob,  no.  But  it's  all  made  up;  the  felly  jist 
179 


Shipmates 


wrote  what  wuz  in  his  head.  It  never  happened. 
It  cuddent." 

"  Enoch  Arden,  wasn't  it? "  asked  Fuller  from 
above.  ''  Yes,  Tim,  it  could  happen.  Tennyson 
knew  more  of  human  nature  than  you  do.  It's 
a  hard  strain  on  a  man,  I  admit,  but  it  could 
happen.     It  has  happened.     I  knew  such  a  man." 

"Ye  did?" 

"  Yes,  he  was  shipwrecked,  just  as  the  poem 
says,  and  came  home  years  later.  There  was  a 
man  in  his  place,  and  a  big  new  house  built  with 
money  his  father  had  left  him  and  which  the  wife 
inherited,  and  there  was  a  baby  bom.  But  he 
didn't  look  into  the  window  and  clear  out.  He 
talked  with  the  woman  and  found  out  that  the 
baby  would  be  illegitimatized  if  he  asserted  him- 
self; and  though  the  woman  loved  him  more  than 
the  new  man,  he  knew  that  she  loved  the  baby 
more  than  either,  so  rather  than  make  trouble 
he  quietly  decamped  without  seeing  the  new  man 
at  all." 

"And  where'd  he  go?"  asked  Tim. 

"  To  sea,  of  course." 

It  was  a  treat  to  hear  Fuller  talk,  and  I  sounded 
him,  leading  from  one  subject  to  another  until 
other  voices  were  silent.  Beginning  with  Tenny- 
180 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

son,  he  delivered  a  lecture  on  modern  poets  that 
would  have  enlightened  a  Bible  class  of  editors;  in 
fact,  he  talked  us  to  sleep,  for  I,  the  last  man  awake, 
was  listening  to  a  dissection  of  Shelley  when  the 
words  grew  dreamy. 

But  this  "  feast  of  reason  and  flow  of  soul " 
had  results  detrimental  to  Fuller's  theory  of  his 
immunity  from  abuse.  The  steward,  a  well-mean- 
ing but  unwise  individual,  was  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  the  forecastle  for  a  smoke  with  the  men 
before  turning  in  for  the  night,  and  arrived  on 
this  evening  just  in  time  to  hear  Fuller's  discourse 
on  poetry.  So  impressed  was  he  by  the  wonder 
that  he  sounded  Fuller's  praises  at  the  cabin  table 
next  morning,  to  the  end  that  the  captain,  highly 
indignant  at  the  discovery  of  such  a  forecastle  law- 
yer among  his  men,  forthwith  made  life  a  burden 
to  Fuller,  cursing  and  shouting  at  him  whenever 
he  came  in  sight.  The  captain  was  a  well-built, 
handsome  young  man  with  a  fair  education  and 
a  reddening  nose.  Had  he  remained  sober  long 
enough  to  be  guided  by  his  natural  sense,  Fuller 
might  have  escaped  his  wrath;  but  he  tippled  con- 
tinually and  smelled  vilely.  Once  his  wife  pro- 
tested, and  there  were  sorrow  and  shame  in  her 
blue  eyes. 

181 


Shipmates 


"Please  don't,  George/'  she  said  to  her  hus- 
band.    "  He  is  doing  his  best." 

But  he  flung  her  a  curse  and  pushed  her  aside; 
whereupon  she  went  below,  crying. 

Another  happening  lowered  Fuller's  stock  still 
further.  The  two  mates,  "  buckos  "  of  the  worst 
type,  began  shouting  at  one  another  in  the  darkness 
of  a  stormy  night,  each  under  the  impression  that 
the  other  was  an  angry  and  insolent  sailor.  They 
met  soon  on  the  slanting  deck,  and  though  they 
must  have  known  their  mistake  by  this  time,  still 
they  went  at  it,  to  the  intense  amusement  of  all 
of  us,  wrestling,  striking,  and  cursing  until  they 
rolled  to  the  lee  scuppers.  It  was  Fuller  who 
separated  them;  and  he  may  or  may  not  have 
earned  the  gratitude  of  Mr.  Parker,  the  second 
mate — under  dog  in  the  fight — but  he  certainly 
aroused  all  the  hatred  that  Mr.  Oliver,  the  first 
officer,  was  able  to  feel.  It  was  intensified  by  what 
Hans  told  him  (we  learned  of  Hans's  and  the  stew- 
ard's misdoing  afterward).  On  fine  nights  he 
would  call  this  slow-witted  young  man  aft  to  be 
wheedled  and  pumped  of  forecastle  news;  and 
Hans,  not  able  to  quote  correctly,  gave  out  Fuller's 
declaration  in  regard  to  his  own  ability  in  a  way 
which  made  him  say  that  he  knew  more  than  did 
182 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

the  mates.  So,  though  there  was  bad  blood  be- 
tween the  first  and  second  mate,  the  former  and 
the  skipper  were  thoroughly  in  accord  in  their 
opinion  of  Fuller,  and  often  joined  their  extensive 
vocabularies  in  expressing  it.  Sometimes,  as  I 
noted  the  sparkle  in  Fuller's  dark  eyes,  I  feared 
for  the  ending  of  this;  but  he  held  his  temper 
wonderfully  and  silenced  our  sympathizing  com- 
ment in  the  watch  below. 

We  had  now  caught  the  northeast  trade,  and 
about  this  time  my  view  point  was  changed  from 
the  forecastle  to  the  lazaret.  The  cause  of  the 
transfer  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  story,  but  is 
touched  upon  as  explaining  the  somewhat  uncon- 
ventional frame  of  mind  which  makes  this  story 
possible.  When  you  are  flat  on  your  back,  with 
a  second  mate,  bigger  and  stronger  than  yourself, 
kneeling  on  your  chest,  gripping  your  throat  and 
hammering  a  belaying-pin  fortissimo  on  your  bare 
head  until  your  tongue  protrudes  and  your  reeling 
brain  sees  things  of  another  world,  you  are  apt  to 
fall  back  upon  your  instincts,  and  later  to  feel  an 
unregenerate  sympathy  for  mutiny,  murder,  and 
manslaughter,  which  you  can  acquire  in  no  other 
way.  I  reached  for  my  sheath-knife.  Shortly  af- 
terward, dazed,  breathing  hard  and  unrepentant,  I 
183 


shipmates 


was  ironed  in  the  half -deck  and  entered  in  the  offi- 
cial log  for  murderous  assault  on  Mr.  Parker,  with 
good  prospects  of  bread  and  water  for  the  passage, 
and  a  long  term  in  the  penitentiary  afterward.  Mr. 
Oliver,  our  first  mate,  put  the  irons  on  my  wrists, 
and  as  we  descended  the  hatch,  I  noticed  a  sympa- 
thetic leer  showing  in  his  evil  face;  but  whatever 
of  approval  this  may  have  indicated  he  carefully 
left  out  of  his  language.  Savage  as  I  felt  at  the 
time,  I  remember  philosophizing  on  the  absurd 
nautical  etiquette  which  required  me  to  "  Sir  "  and 
"  Mr."  this  ignorant  wretch,  on  whom  I  would 
not  have  wasted  three  minutes  of  conversation 
ashore.  He  was  heavily  built,  bull-necked,  and 
with  a  countenance  that  reminded  you  of  a  go- 
rilla's. Quite  different,  though  equally  a  villain, 
was  Mr.  Parker.  He  was  younger,  better  educated, 
and  better  favoured — possessing  a  slippery,  snaky 
kind  of  good  looks,  and  an  expression  about  the 
mouth  which  in  repose  was  a  sneer,  when  he  was 
excited  a  malevolent  grin,  but  when  pleased  or 
amused  a  very  pleasant  smile.  My  knife  had 
barely  pricked  a  rib,  and  he  had  smiled  sweetly  as 
I  left  the  deck. 

Having  ironed  me,  the  mate  further  secured 
me  according  to  his  not  very  brilliant  lights.     He 
184 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

rove  a  long  rope  through  the  links  of  the  shackles, 
and  bringing  the  ends  even,  passed  a  clove-hitch 
with  both  parts  around  a  stanchion,  then  led  the 
two  ends  forward  out  of  my  reach  and  hitched  them 
to  another;  but  he  had  left  me  six  feet  of  rope  be- 
tween the  first  hitch  and  my  shackles,  and  this  was 
enough.  After  one  night  spent  in  the  half-deck, 
breathing  bilge-water  fumes  from  the  scupper-holes, 
I  loosened  the  hitch  with  my  six  feet  of  slack  when 
night  came  down  again,  crawled  through  it  and 
forward  to  the  other  stanchion,  cleared  away  the 
ends,  then  coiled  up  my  tether  and  crept  aft  past 
the  cabin-trunk  to  the  lazaret,  where  there  were  soft 
oakum  and  canvas  to  lie  upon,  and  a  hatch  above  for 
ventilation.  It  was  about  four  feet  square,  and 
in  fine  weather  was  left  open.  I  made  this  change 
nightly,  returning  at  daylight  to  hitch  myself  to 
the  stanchion. 

About  a  week  after  my  incarceration,  while 
crawling  along  the  starboard  alleyway,  I  heard  a 
sound  through  the  thin  bulkhead  which  brought 
me  to  a  stop — a  sound  of  sobbing  in  a  woman's 
voice,  and  harsh,  masculine  profanity.  I  knew 
that  I  was  abreast  of  the  captain's  room,  and  I 
knew  of  rumours  in  the  ship  that  he  was  unkind  to 
his  wife.  When  I  could  listen  no  longer,  I  passed 
13  185 


shipmates 


on  to  my  nest  in  the  lazaret,  cursing  the  drunken 
brute,  and  wishing  fervently  that  the  fates  had 
made  me  a  policeman  instead  of  a  sailor.  Musing 
on  the  hard  lot  of  the  little  woman,  I  fell  asleep,  to 
be  awakened  shortly  by  voices  on  deck. 

The  ship  was  close-hauled  on  the  port  tack, 
and  out  of  the  spanker  over  my  head  the  wind 
hummed  with  a  sound  that  would  have  deadened 
voices  less  forceful  than  those  of  Fuller  and  the 
mate.  From  where  I  lay  I  could  just  distinguish, 
faintly  illumined  by  the  binnacle  light,  the  head 
and  torse  of  Fuller  at  the  wheel,  and  a  few  outlines 
of  Mr.  Oliver's  burly  figure,  stamping  back  and 
forth  across  the  deck  in  front  of  him.  It  was  the 
blackest  night  I  had  ever  known  in  trade-wind 
waters,  and  but  for  the  binnacle  light  and  their 
voices  I  would  not  have  known  them.  The  mate 
was  speaking. 

"  ni  take  the  shine  out  o'  you,  you  d d  sea 

preacher.  Know  yer  work,  do  you?  I've  got  a 
few  tricks  you  don't  know." 

"  What  I  said,  Mr.  Oliver,"  answered  Fuller, 
firmly  but  respectfully,  "  was  not  boastingly,  or  in 
comparison  with  any  one  aft,  but  to  induce  the  men 
to  brace  up  and  learn  something." 

"  You  lie,  you  d d  snivelling  soul-saver. 

186 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

Don't  gi'  me  any  lip;  don't  you  gi'  me  any  lip,  or  I'll 
make  you  smell  hell  right  here."  He  halted  be- 
fore Fuller  and  raised  his  fist. 

"  Hold  on,  sir,"  said  Fuller.  "  There's  prece- 
dent established,  aside  from  the  law  in  the  matter, 
against  striking  a  man  at  the  wheel.  I'll  have  the 
best  of  it,  sir." 

"  You  will,  hey?     D n  the  law!  "     Then 

followed  an  epithet  unprintable,  and  he  struck 
Fuller  in  the  face.  He  was  bent  back  over  the 
wheel-box  by  the  force  of  the  blow,  but  retained 
his  hold  on  the  spokes. 

"  There's  little  chance  for  a  foremast  hand 
in  court;  but,  by  God,  I've  got  you  foul,  Mr. 
Oliver." 

"Have,  hey,  you  whining  hound!  Got  any 
witnesses?     Take  another,  you !  " 

Again  the  epithet;  again  the  big  fist  launched 
out,  and  again  Fuller  sank  back  over  the  wheel- 
box. 

"  Take  care — take  care !  Don't  hit  me  again," 
he  said  hoarsely  as  he  straightened  up.  "  You're 
right.  There  are  no  witnesses  if  I  kill  you.  Take 
care,  sir." 

"  Oh,  hell !  "  The  mate  laughed  contemptu- 
ously. Then — -I  did  not  see — it  was  too  dark 
187 


Shipmates 


— I  heard  the  sound  of  expectoration,  and  "  that's 
all  you're  worth  "  from  Mr.  Oliver. 

Fuller  wiped  his  face  with  his  bare  wrist,  and, 
with  a  harsh,  throaty  growl,  dropped  the  wheel 
and  sprang  at  the  mate.  They  clinched,  and  as 
their  tightly  locked  forms  disappeared  from  my 
sight,  I  stepped  toward  the  hatch  for  a  peep  over 
the  combings.  Before  I  could  raise  my  head,  how- 
ever, a  heavy  figure  launched  over  the  hatch,  and 
I  heard  a  sound  as  of  a  breakfast  ^gg  struck  by  a 
knife-blade,  then  felt  a  vibration  of  the  lazaret 
flooring,  followed  quickly  by  the  quiver  of  the 
hatch  combing  and  the  floundering  thud  of  arms, 
legs,  and  body  falling  on  the  deck.  One  of  them 
had  been  hurled  through  the  air,  head  first,  at  the 
lee-quarter  bitt;  but  it  was  not  Fuller,  as  I  saw 
in  a  second.  He  was  at  the  wheel,  grinding  it  up, 
coughing  and  spitting,  snarling  and  cursing  furi- 
ously, and  occasionally  rubbing  his  cheek  and  chin 
with  his  wrist.  The  ship  had  come  up  into  the 
wind,  and  I  heard  the  long-drawn  hail  of  the  look- 
out on  the  forecastle  deck:  "  All  in  the  wind  for- 
rard,  sir." 

"  All  right — all  right,"  answered  Fuller  after 
a  momentary  inspection  of  what  was  on  the  deck 
over  my  head;  and  there  was  a  raspy  note  in  his 
188 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

voice — intentional,  or  coming  of  his  rage — pecul- 
iarly like  the  unpleasant  voice  of  the  mate.  It 
does  no  man  good  to  spit  in  his  face. 

When  the  sails  were  full  and  the  ship  steady 
he  left  the  wheel,  stepped  quickly  down  to  leeward 
out  of  my  sight,  and  returned  in  a  moment  to  his 
steering.  I  could  not  see  the  expression  of  his 
face,  but  I  saw  him  hold  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head, as  a  man  does  with  the  headache,  while  he 
looked  aloft  at  the  royal,  to  windward  and  ahead, 
but  he  did  not  look  at  the  thing  on  the  deck. 

"  Dead,"  I  heard  him  say.  "  O  God,  haven't 
I  trouble  enough?  He  deserved  it;  and  they'd 
acquit  him  for  my  death,  but  hang  me  for  his." 

Three  bells — half  past  nine — struck  on  the 
cabin  clock.  He  rang  the  strokes  on  the  small  bell 
behind  him,  and  it  was  repeated  forward.  In 
half  an  hour  he  would  be  relieved. 

He  spent  five  minutes  of  inaction,  while  I 
watched,  with  a  dry  tongue  and  throat,  every  nerve 
strained  in  expectancy;  then,  putting  the  wheel  up 
a  full  turn,  he  dropped  it,  sprang  quickly  down 
past  the  hatch,  and  I  heard  the  scraping  of  boot 
heels  on  the  deck  as  he  lifted  the  body.  I  heard 
no  splash — it  was  blowing  too  hard — but  knew  that 
he  had  given  the  mate  the  burial  he  had  earned; 
189 


shipmates 


and  I  knew,  too,  that  if  no  one  else  had  seen  or 
heard,  Fuller  had  saved  himself;  for  I,  a  brother- 
slave  in  my  country's  ships,  a  convict-elect — who 
had  felt  the  clutch  of  authority  at  my  throat  and 
seen  things  of  another  world — would  not  have  de- 
nounced him. 

He  waited  ten  minutes — until  the  mate's  body 
must  have  been  a  mile  astern — then,  putting  his 
hands  to  his  mouth,  sent  a  bellowing  call  forward: 
"Man  overboard!  Man  overboard!  Call  all 
hands!     Come  aft  here,  some  o'  you!  " 

There  was  confusion  indescribable  on  that  deck 
for  a  full  half -hour.  The  captain  came  up  drunk, 
as  usual,  totally  unequal  to  the  situation.  The 
men  were  excited,  and,  judging  by  the  few  com- 
ments I  heard  in  their  voices,  not  overzealous  to 
save  their  chief  officer.  The  second  mate  alone 
was  steady.  Somehow  he  managed  to  back  the 
main-yards  and  get  a  quarter-boat  over;  but  it  re- 
turned without  Mr.  Oliver. 

I  overheard  Fuller  explaining  earnestly  to  the 
captain  and  second  mate  that  Mr.  Oliver  had 
climbed  the  taffrail  to  examine  the  chafed  clew- 
lashing  of  the  spanker;  that  he  had  slipped,  struck 
his  head  on  the  rail,  and  fallen  overboard;  where- 
upon he  had  immediately  "  sung  out." 
190 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

With  Mr.  Parker  in  the  mate's  place  and  the 
captain — fairly  sober  now — standing  watch,  the 
ship  ran  down  the  northeast  trade  and  into  the  dol- 
drums, each  day  marked  by  the  knocking  down  or 
clubbing  of  one  or  more  of  the  crew.  I  knew  this 
from  the  sounds  I  heard  and  from  the  gossip  of 
Hans,  who  brought  me  my  meals. 

"  I  dink  I  will  my  knife  stick  in  him,  too," 
he  said  one  day.  "  Den  I  coom  down  here  and 
do  no  work  and  be  waited  on,  aindt  it?  Yah." 
But  when  I  pulled  up  my  shirt  and  showed  some 
blue  spots  left  by  Mr.  Parker's  boots — which  little 
attention  had  followed  a  brazen  and  quite  unneces- 
sary request  on  my  part  for  more  slack  to  my  tether 
— Hans  departed,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully. 
One  part  of  Hans's  gossip  was  gratifying:  Fuller, 
in  Mr.  Parker's  watch,  now  escaped  a  great  deal 
of  the  captain's  ill-will  and  abuse,  and  from  Mr. 
Parker  himself  received  consideration  and  even 
kindness.  But  the  two  were  united  in  their  tyranny 
over  the  rest  of  the  crew,  and  treated  the  men 
harsher  than  before  the  disappearance  of  Mr. 
Oliver.  I  ascribed  it  to  the  fact  that,  with  their 
force  reduced  by  a  third,  they  dared  not  abate  one 
jot  of  their  iron  rule,  fearing  that  the  crew  would 
take  advantage  of  it;  and  that  in  Fuller's  case  Mr. 
191 


Shipmates 


Parker,  more  practical  than  the  captain,  knew  that 
this  man  needed  no  coercion  or  terrorizing  to  keep 
him  in  order.  Also,  I  considered  the  fight  between 
the  mates,  when  Fuller  had  aided  him;  but  another 
conversation  which  I  listened  to  one  evening  de- 
cided me  that  gratitude  played  no  part  in  Mr. 
Parker's  motive. 

It  was  a  fine  night.  Curiously  enough  for  the 
latitude,  we  had  a  gentle,  fair  wind  which  promised 
to  be  steady.  I  had  crawled  aft  cautiously,  and  on 
the  way  had  listened  to  that  harrowing  sound 
through  the  bulkhead  which  told  me  that  the  skip- 
per was  drinking  again.  I  stretched  out  on  my 
resting-place  just  as  four  bells  (ten  o'clock)  struck 
overhead.  Puller  relieved  the  wheel,  as  I  knew 
by  the  voice  that  repeated  the  course.  Then  I 
heard  Mr.  Parker's  step  and  his  voice. 

"  Why  didn't  you  take  the  second  mate's  berth 
the  old  man  offered  you? "  he  asked;  and  as  Puller 
did  not  reply  at  once,  I  rose  to  my  feet  and  ap- 
proached the  hatch.  This  promised  to  be  inter- 
esting. 

"  I  didn't  want  it,  sir,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I  am 
not  competent,  and  am  satisfied  in  the  forecastle.'^ 

"  Possibly  you  are,  Mr.  Puller — now  that  your 
pet  friend  is  over  the  side.  I  say  ^  Mr.'  Puller, 
192 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

because  I  know  a  good  man  when  I  see  him.  Don't 
tell  me  you're  not  competent.  I  know  better. 
You've  walked  the  poop-deck  for  years." 

Fuller  did  not  reply. 

"  Now,  I've  been  your  friend — you  can't  deny 
that — and  I  want  you  aft  here." 

"May  I  ask  why,  sir?  It's  safe  enough  to 
disrate  an  officer,  but  not  safe  to  promote  a  fore- 
mast hand  against  his  will  and  make  him  responsi- 
ble. He  could  dismast  the  ship,  plead  incompe- 
tency, and  the  owners  would  get  no  insurance. 
Why  do  you  want  me  aft  against  my  will? " 

"  Take  the  berth  and  I'll  tell  you.  It's  a  good 
thing  for  us  both." 

"]^o,  sir;  I  prefer  staying  forward." 

The  officer  paced  the  deck  a  few  turns  and 
halted. 

"  I  want  you  aft,"  he  said,  "  because  I  like  a 
man  of  your  calibre.  You're  one  man  in  a 
thousand.  The  other  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  would  have  lost  their  heads  the  other  night." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir? " 

"  What  do  I  mean?  Fuller,  what  I  didn't  see 
I  heard  from  the  forward  companionway;  what  I 
didn't  hear  I  saw  from  the  corner  of  the  house. 

I  heard  the  mate  d ning  you.    I  saw  him  flung 

193 


shipmates 


across  the  deck,  heard  him  land,  saw  you  pitch  him 
over,  and  heard  you  sing  out.  I  give  you  credit 
for  a  cool  head,  but — I  can  hang  you." 

Fuller  made  no  response. 

"  I  could  have  raised  hell  at  the  time,  Fuller, 
but  I  approved  of  the  thing;  and,  as  I  said,  I  liked 
you.  Now,  I  want  you  with  me.  Take  the 
berth.'' 

"Why?" 

There  was  no  "  sir  "  added  to  the  word,  and 
Fuller's  voice  was  hoarse. 

"  Well — just  this.  May  as  well  tell  you.  The 
skipper's  got  clean  green  bills  in  his  room  to  the 
tune  of  thirty  thousand  dollars — no  right  to  it — 
what  his  wife  got  from  her  first  husband's  es- 
tate. I  wormed  this  out  o'  the  drunken  fool. 
He  sold  out  everything,  and  they  mean  to  set- 
tle in  Frisco.  Now — do  you  want  part  o'  that 
money? " 

"  Shouldn't  wonder.  Our  right  to  it  is  as  good 
as  his." 

"  Of  course.  Now  we're  talking.  I  only  want 
a  third  for  my  share,  but  I  want  the  woman.  You 
can  have  two-thirds." 

"  What's  the  plan?  "  asked  Fuller,  with  a  kind 
of  dry  laugh  in  his  voice. 

194 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

"  Dead  easy.  Send  him  after  the  mate.  We 
can  take  the  ship  to  Frisco.'' 

^^  And  you  want  a  third  and  the  woman.  Does 
she  want  you  ? '' 

"  Oh,  that  won't  matter  long.  She'll  be  glad 
o'  the  change.  The  fool  cuffs  her  and  cusses  her 
too  much.  Of  course  a  woman  needs  a  bat  in  the 
nose  once  in  a  while,  but  where's  the  sense  in  spoil- 
ing good  looks?  She's  a  beauty  if  she'd  stop  blub- 
bering. You  leave  that  part  to  me.  I'll  win  the 
woman  all  right." 

"How?" 

"  Kiss  her,  hug  her,  tell  her  I  love  her. 
Oh,  I  know  how.  Her  kid  died  lately,  and  she 
w^ants  something  to  love.  I'll  give  her  the  tommy- 
rot  women  like.  Dammit,  I'd  like  to  begin  to- 
night; the  skipper's  dead  drunk.  Almost  grabbed 
her  the  other  night  in  the  companionway." 

Fuller  waited  a  little  before  speaking;  then  his 
words  came  with  a  business-like  distinctness. 

"  And  in  case  I  refuse  to  come  aft  as  second 
mate,  aid  you  in  killing  the  skipper,  take  two-thirds 
of  the  money  we  find  while  you  take  one-third  and 
the  woman,  you  intend  to  denounce  me  for  killing 
the  mate?" 

"  Well — ^yes — that's  about  the  size  of  it.  I'll 
195 


shipmates 


explain  mj  delay  by  seeming  frightened — afraid 
of  a  like  fate.     It'll  go  in  court." 

"ril  think  a  little.  I  don't  want  to  hang.  I've 
work  to  do  in  this  world." 

"  All  right.  Think  quick.  I  want  your  an- 
swer next  trick  at  the  wheel.  Here,  Fuller,  it's 
a  little  late  in  the  deal — but,  have  a  drink.  Some 
of  the  skipper's  good  stuff.  Steward  sneaked  it 
for  me." 

He  drew  out  a  flask,  but  Fuller  declined.  "  I've 
quit  drinking  forever,"  he  said.  ''  I've  work  to 
do." 

The  mate  went  forward  and  began  pacing  the 
half -deck,  as  I  could  tell  by  the  sound  of  his  foot- 
steps. From  my  position  near  the  quarter-bitt  I 
could  only  see  the  upper  part  of  Fuller's  tall  figure, 
standing  at  the  wheel,  holding  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head as  he  had  done  before;  but  in  the  stillness  of 
the  tropic  night  I  could  hear  plainly,  not  only  the 
mate's  footfalls,  but  Fuller's  heavy  breathing,  the 
guttural  snoring  of  the  captain  in  his  berth,  and 
the  sound  of  light  footsteps  on  the  forward  com- 
panionway  stairs — then  voices  in  the  lee  alleyway. 
Fuller  stepped  to  the  lee  side  of  the  wheel,  and 
holding  it  with  one  hand,  bent  his  body  nearly  to  a 
right  angle  as  he  looked  forward. 
196 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?''  came  a  plaintive 
and  indignant  voice.  "  Mr.  Parker,  I  forbid  you. 
What  are  you  thinking  of?  Do  you  want  me  to 
speak  to  my  husband?  " 

"  Why,  no,  little  woman ;  of  course  not. 
What's  the  sense?  He'd  only  hit  you  again.  Just 
one;  no  one  can  see." 

There  was  a  faint  scuffle  of  feet  on  the  deck,  a 
stifled  plaint  that  was  half  gasp,  and  a  sound  from 
Fuller's  lips  that  I  had  never  heard  outside  of  a 
menagerie.  He  left  the  wheel,  and  I  raised  my 
head  through  the  hatch,  but  he  had  disappeared 
in  the  alley.  Then  I  heard  an  oath — furious  and 
all  but  inarticulate — a  scream,  a  heavy  stamping 
of  feet,  choking  words  of  protest  in  the  mate's 
voice,  the  crashing  of  a  heavy  body  on  the  deck, 
and  the  thud,  thud,  thud,  of  something  hard 
striking  it — the  vibrations  coming  along  the 
deck. 

"  Lay  aft  here  the  watch,"  came  a  roar  in  Ful- 
ler's vibrant  voice.  "  Take  the  wheel,  one  hand. 
I'm  through.     One  o'  you  call  the  skipper." 

The  shuffling  of  feet  sounded  on  the  deck  as  the 

men  scampered  aft,  and  I  lowered  my  head,  but 

remained  where  I  could  watch.     Before  the  men 

reached  the  quarter  Fuller  appeared  around  the 

197 


shipmates 


comer  of  the  house  supporting  the  nearly  uncon- 
scious woman. 

"  Steady,  little  girl/'  he  said  tenderly.  "  Steady 
— don't  faint.     It's  almost  over." 

"  Oh,  John,"  she  wailed,  ''  don't  blame — don't 
blame  me.  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  came  up  for  air 
— the  fumes  stifled  me — and  I  didn't  know — I 
didn't  know — and  he  struck  me  again  to- 
night  " 

"  Never  mind,  Alice ;  I  don't  blame  you,"  he 
said,  giving  the  wheel  a  spin  with  his  free  hand. 
'^  I  never  blamed  you.  You've  borne  it  nobly,  and 
I  hoped  we  could  hold  out,  but — it  ends  this  night 
if  I  kill  him,  too.  Take  the  wheel  here,  one  o' 
you,"  he  added  sternly  to  the  group  of  men,  "  and 
call  the  skipper." 

"What's  the  row? "  asked  Irish  Tim,  as  he 
grasped  the  spokes.     "  Where's  the  mate.  Fuller?  " 

Now  came  two  or  three  men  along  the  lee  alley, 
and  one  answered  Tim. 

"  Dead,"  he  said.  "  Dead  as  he  can  be.  My 
God,  what  a  sight!  Fuller,  yer  done  for;  ye've 
stamped  his  face  off." 

''  Call  the  skipper." 

A  man  descended  the  after  companionway,  and 
not  knowing  where  to  look,  sang  out  loudly,  wak- 
198 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

ing  first  the  steward  in  the  forward  cabin,  who  ap- 
peared— later,  the  captain. 

^^  What's  the  matter  here?"  asked  this  indi- 
vidual thickly,  as  he  reached  the  deck.  "  Where's 
Mr.  Parker?" 

"  Dead,"  answered  Fuller,  still  supporting  the 
captain's  wife.  "  Dead  for  assaulting  this  woman. 
D — — n  you,"  he  yelled  insanely,  "  can't  you  care 
for  the  wife  that  was  given  you  ? " 

"  What — why — what — "  stuttered  the  dazed 
captain,  backing  toward  the  companionway.  "  As- 
saulting my  wife?  Who — Alice?  "  he  bawled,  sud- 
denly his  faculties  crystallizing  to  anger.  ''  Whpt's 
this?  Get  away  from  that  man.  Get  down  be- 
low. Parker  assaulted  you?  Then,  by  God,  you 
gave  him  leave,  you " 

"Be  careful,  you  hound;  be  careful,"  inter- 
rupted Puller,  placing  the  woman's  hands  on  the 
edge  of  the  house  and  advancing,  while  the  men 
drew  back  wonderingly.  I  had  not  scrupled  to 
lift  my  head  through  the  hatch,  and  had  seen  the 
well-meaning  but  unwise  steward  disappear  down 
the  stairs.  He  returned  at  this  juncture  and 
handed  a  bright  revolver  to  the  captain,  who  raised 
it  unsteadily,  scattering  the  men  into  the  alley- 
ways. 

199 


Shipmates 


"  Lower  that  gun,"  said  Fuller. 

"  Who  are  you — to  talk  to  me  like  this  aboard 
my  ship?  This  is  mutiny.  Go  forrard.  "Who 
are  you,  anyway?  "  Armed  as  he  was,  it  was  plain 
that  he  was  frightened. 

"  I'm  the  Fool  Killer.  Lower  that  gun  quick- 
ly.   My  neck's  already  in  the  halter." 

The  captain  lowered  the  pistol.  There  was 
terrible  menace  in  Fuller's  even  voice  and  delib- 
erate advance. 

"  I've  another  name,"  he  continued,  as  he 
stopped  before  the  wavering  captain.  "  Ever 
hear  it?" 

He  bent  forward  and  said  something  in  a  low 
voice — which  I  could  not  hear.  Whatever  it  was, 
the  effect  on  the  captain  was  astonishing. 

^^Hell  and  damnation!"  he  shouted.     "You 

alive — d n  you!     By  God,  you  die  again — 

that's  all."  He  levelled  the  pistol  and  fired,  but  his 
hand  was  unsteady,  and  the  bullet  went  clear.  Be- 
fore he  could  cock  the  pistol  again  a  scream  rang 
out,  and  his  wife  threw  herself  on  his  breast. 

"  You  shall  not,  George.     You  shall  not  kill 

him,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  frantically  clutched  at 

the  pistol.     He  struck  her  down  with  an  oath,  and 

was  then  busy  with  Fuller,  who  had  seized  his  wrist 

200 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

and  was  twisting  the  pistol  out  of  his  hand.  This 
was  soon  accomplished.  I  believe  that  Fuller  was 
at  that  moment  a  maniac  with  a  maniac's  strength. 
He  held  the  captain  by  the  collar,  at  arm's  length, 
until  he  had  laid  the  pistol  on  the  house;  then  with 
a  few  preliminary  shakes  and  a  sudden  swing  side- 
ways, he  jerked  him  off  his  feet.  For  a  fraction 
of  a  second  the  captain  was  nearly  horizontal,  face 
upward,  in  mid-air.  Then  Fuller's  right  arm 
slipped  under  his  back,  his  left  hand  left  his  collar, 
and  his  left  elbow  pressed  into  his  throat.  In  this 
position,  choking  and  spluttering,  the  captain  was 
carried,  like  a  doll  in  the  arms  of  a  child,  behind 
the  wheel-box,  out  of  my  sight.  But  in  a  moment  I 
saw  his  legs,  wide  apart  and  bent  at  the  knees,  rise 
into  view  as  he  was  launched  feet  first  over  the 
taffrail.  A  shriek  began  on  his  lips,  but  the  water 
cut  it  short,  and  before  this  shriek  sounded  Fuller 
had  regained  the  pistol. 

"Forward  with  you  all!"  he  roared  as  he 
vaulted  to  the  top  of  the  house.  "  Down  off  the 
poop,  the  lot  of  you.  Muster  at  the  main  hatch  and 
wait  there.  Steward,"  he  called  to  the  frightened 
flunkey  in  the  companionway,  "  assist  this  lady 
down  below,  and  then  take  the  wheel." 

But  the  poor  creature  had  arisen  and  was  al- 
14  201 


shipmates 


ready  stumbling  down  the  stairs — perhaps  to  es- 
cape the  pitiful  appeals  for  help  coming  out  of 
the  sea  astern — and  the  steward  was  soon  at  the 
wheel. 

"  Holy  Mother!  "  said  Tim  as  he  relinquished 
it.     "  An'  will  ye  lave  him  drown,  Fuller?  '^ 

"  Silence,"  thundered  Fuller,  levelling  the 
pistol  at  him.  "  Go  forward  to  the  main  hatch. 
Yes — if  you  want  to  know — and  kill  the  first  man 
that  lays  a  hand  on  a  boat  gripe." 

Tim  hurried  after  the  others,  who  had  lost 
no  time  in  obeying  Fuller's  command;  and  when 
the  heart-rending  cries  from  astern  were  hushed 
Fuller  followed.  I  also  followed,  below  decks, 
weak  in  the  knees  and  dizzy,  but  feverish  with  curi- 
osity to  know  what  was  to  happen  next.  At  the 
head  of  the  booby-hatch  steps  I  heard  Fuller,  at 
the  break  of  the  poop,  order  all  hands  called,  and 
when  their  shuffling  footsteps  indicated  their  ap- 
pearance, I  listened  to  the  address  he  made 
them. 

"  Men,"  he  said,  in  a  steady  voice,  but  with 
a  ring  and  a  snap  to  each  word,  "this  ship  needs  a 
skipper  and  a  mate — but  we  wont  elect  them. 
There's  not  a  man  among  you  fit  for  it.  So  I  ap- 
point myself  skipper,  and  the  man  in  the  half-deck 
202 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

mate.  I'll  take  the  ship  to  Frisco  and  deliver  her 
to  a  tug.  Now,  let  me  impress  something  on  your 
minds.  You  heard  me  tell  the  skipper  that  my 
neck  was  in  the  halter.  He  chose  to  ignore  that 
fact.  It  was  my  life  or  his,  and  I  won.  I  killed 
the  mate  for  insulting  a  lady — my  countrywoman 
— and  announced  that  reason;  but  I  had  another, 
which  I  announce  to  you,  though  I  do  not  feel 
called  upon  to  explain — it  was  my  life  'gainst  his. 
Do  you  understand?  I  have  killed  no  one  without 
reason;  but,  give  me  reason  and  I  will  kill  you  all 
cheerfully.  Understand?  If  a  man  of  you  enters 
the  cabin,  or  affronts  the  lady  who  lives  in  it  by 
word  or  look,  I'll  drop  that  man  in  his  tracks. 
Such  little  things  as  disobedience  of  orders,  or  lack 
of  respect  to  myself  or  the  man  I  appoint  mate  can 
be  adjusted  with  a  club,  perhaps  with  fists.  Against 
this  you  will  have  watch-and-watch,  full  and  plenty 
of  grub  and  water,  and  civil  words  while  you  do 
your  work.  Is  this  satisfactory,  or  is  any  one  look- 
ing for  trouble?  I'm  the  Fool  Killer,  remember, 
and  my  neck's  in  the  halter." 

"  It's  all  right.  Fuller,"  began  Tim,  ''  we " 

"  Hold  on,  there,"  thundered  Fuller.     "  What 
did  you  say? " 

"  Captain  Fuller,  I  mean,  sorr.     It's  all  right, 
203 


Shipmates 


son.  I'm  wid  ye  on  this,  an'  I'll  do  as  I'm  told; 
an'  it's  a  good  man  kin  do  that,  sorr." 

"  It's  all  right,  sir,"  "  We'll  stand  by  you,  sir," 
^^  Served  'em  right,"  ''  We'll  back  you  up,  sir," 
sang  out  others. 

"  Very  well.     Is  the  carpenter  on  deck? " 

''  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Chips. 

"  Take  a  file  down  the  half-deck  and  file  off 
those  shackles.  IN'o  time  to  look  for  the  keys.  Ee- 
lieve  the  wheel,  one  of  you." 

At  this  I  chose  to  descend  and  hug  my  stan- 
chion. The  excited  carpenter  did  not  notice  that  I 
was  not  priDperly  hitched,  and  I  was  soon  on  deck, 
being  introduced  to  my  shipmates  as  their  officer. 
It  was  my  first  promotion,  but  I  was  not  unduly 
elated. 

In  the  morning  we  gave  the  body  of  Mr.  Parker 
sea  burial,  at  which  function  I  played  the  hypocrite 
and  read  the  Lord's  Prayer  to  the  men — Fuller  be- 
ing below  with  a  hysterical  woman.  It  was  three 
days  before  she  could  be  left  alone — three  days  be- 
fore Fuller  and  myself  got  any  sleep;  for  he  dared 
not  leave  her,  and  I  stood  both  watches. 

There  was  no  trouble  with  the  men.  Not  once 
in  the  long  passage  around  the  Horn  did  Fuller 
need  to  raise  his  voice  in  anger  or  dictation,  and 
204 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

the  only  violent  language  used  to  the  men  was  on 
one  occasion  when  I  overheard  Tim  and  Hans  dis- 
cussing the  complaisance  of  our  passenger  in  taking 
up  so  readily  with  the  slayer  of  her  husband.  When 
Hans  remarked  that  his  "  country womans  did  not 
do  dot/'  I  took  official  action — bumping  their  heads 
together  hard,  and  reminding  them  of  the  Enoch 
Arden  story  Fuller  had  once  told  us  under  the 
warming  influence  of  the  grog.  Having  thus 
started  a  forecastle  argument,  I  dropped  the  sub- 
ject, satisfied  that  the  crew  would  soon  see  through 
the  grindstone — satisfied  that  Fuller  would  ap- 
prove. 

Though  he  had  pleaded  incompetency  for  the 
berth  of  second  mate,  he  proved  himself  a  master 
navigator,  sneaking  the  ship  around  the  Horn  from 
"  fifty  to  fifty  "  in  two  weeks,  and  as  we  sailed 
north  in  the  Pacific,  and  the  woman  in  his  care 
recovered  health  and  beauty  and  confidence,  the 
latent  sparkle  in  Fuller's  eyes  changed  to  the  softest 
light  that  ever  shone  in  the  eyes  of  a  friend. 

At  the  Farallone  Islands,  twenty-five  miles 
west  of  the  Golden  Gate,  we  made  fast  a  tug's 
tow-line,  and  while  some  of  us  unbent  the  canvas, 
the  rest,  under  Fuller,  hoisted  over  the  biggest  and 
best  boat  we  carried,  fitting  her  with  spar  and 
205 


Shipmates 


lug-sail,  ballasting  her  with  two  heavy  trunks,  and 
filling  in  with  at  least  a  month's  supply  of  food  and 
water.  Then  Fuller  called  us  around  him,  thanked 
us  and  shook  the  hands  of  all,  formally  handed  the 
ship  over  to  me,  and  assisted  the  smiling  little 
woman  down  the  side  ladder,  following  with  a 
small  hand-bag,  which  I  do  not  doubt  contained  the 
''  clean  green  bills ''  spoken  of  by  Mr.  Parker. 
We  cast  off  the  painter,  the  boat  dropped  astern, 
and  Fuller  hoisted  the  lug;  then,  as  he  pointed  the 
boat's  nose  due  west  and  crossed  our  wake,  we  gave 
him  three  cheers,  which  he  answered  with  his  hat, 
and  the  woman  with  her  handkerchief. 

We  anchored  the  ship  in  San  Francisco  harbor. 
Then,  after  some  stern  and  scandalized  questioning 
by  the  authorities,  we  philosophically  went  to  jail, 
held  as  witnesses,  while  revenue  cutters  and  tugs 
searched  the  coast  for  a  white  ship's  boat  containing 
a  man  and  woman.  At  the  end  of  six  months' 
detention  the  men  were  released,  and  I  was  tried, 
on  my  own  admission  and  the  evidence  of  the  official 
log,  for  murderous  assault  on  an  officer,  and  given 
three  months  more;  for  a  scapegoat  was  needed, 
and  they  never  found  Fuller.  He  had  disappeared 
into  the  vastness  of  the  Pacific  Ocean;  but  not  to 
die,  that  I  know,  as  I  know  the  man. 
206 


The  Man  at  the  Wheel 

Good-bye,  John  Fuller,  or  whoever  you  be,  and 
good  luck  to  you,  wherever  you  be.  You  were  a 
good  friend,  a  good  shipmate,  and  a  brave  seaman 
and  navigator;  and  you  killed  your  enemies  with 
the  weapons  you  were  bom  with,  and  reclaimed 
your  wife  like  a  man.  But,  under  the  law  of  your 
country,  which  denies  to  a  sailor  the  right  of  self- 
defence,  and  which  you  knew  too  well  to  brave, 
you  are  a  mutineer,  a  pirate,  and  a  murderer.  And 
this  is  the  reason  why  I,  who  have  gone  down  into 
the  deep,  dark  valley  and  returned  by  the  scratch 
of  a  sheath-knife,  give  this  story  to  the  world, 
fearing  that  they  will  catch  you  and  hang  you 
when  I  am  not  on  hand  to  testify.  Fare  you  well. 
Fuller. 


207 


THE  DAY  OP  THE  DOG 


"Light  the  glim — who's  got  a  match?" 

"  Vere  is  mine  kist?     I  get  some  stick-plaster." 

"  Keep  yer  dukes  off  thot  bag;  it's  mine." 

"  It  vas  in  my  bunk." 

"  Yer  bunk,  ye  bloody  Dutchman !  Take  an 
upper  bunk — where  ye  belong." 

"Who's  got  a  match?  I'm  bleedin'  like  a 
stuck  pig." 

"  That  mate  or  me  won't  finish  the  voyage  'f 
he  kicks  me  again." 

"  'No  oil  in  the  blasted  lamp !  Go  aft  to  the 
steward,  one  o'  ye,  an'  get  some  oil." 

"  Where's  that  ordinary  seaman?  Go  get  some 
oil;  find  him  in  the  galley." 

"  There  goes  royal  sheets — we'll  have  a  reefin' 
match  'fore  mornin'." 

"  An'  I'd  be  a  lot  o'  use  on  a  yard  to-night;  I 
can't  take  a  good  breath." 

"  I  dink  he  stove  in  your  rips,  Yijn,  ven  he 
209 


Shipmates 


yump  off  de  fo'castle  on  you.      He  loose  mine 
teet'." 

''  He  won't  do  it  often.  Wonder  if  sheath- 
knives  '11  go  in  this  ship  ? " 

^'  In  my  last  ship  dey  dake  'em  avay  by  der 
dock." 

"Dry  up — you  an'  yer  last  ship;  it's  the  likes 
o'  you  that  ruins  American  ships.  What  d'ye  let 
go  the  t'gallant-sheet  for?  " 

"  I  dink  it  vas  der  bowline.  It  vas  der  bowline- 
pin  on." 

"  Where's  that  boy?     Did  he  go  for  some  oil?  " 

"  Here  he  is.     Got  some  oil?  " 

"Steward  says  to  light  up  a  slush-bucket  to- 
night. He  ain't  got  no  oil  to  spare,  but'll  break 
some  out  in  the  mornin'." 

"  He  be  dam." 

"  The  mate  says  to  rout  out  the  dead  man  an' 
send  him  aft." 

"Where  is  he?  Get  an  iron  slush-bucket  out 
o'  the  bosun's  locker,  an'  ask  Chips  for  some  oakum 
— ^never  mind,  here's  a  bunch.  Where's  that 
feller?     Can  he  move  yet? " 

"  Here  he  is.  Hey,  matey,  heave  out.  Gen- 
tleman aft  on  the  poop  wants  to  shake  hands.  Out 
o'  that  wi'  you!  " 

210 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


"  That'll  do,  that'll  do.  Am  I  the  corpse  that 
is  wanted? " 

/^Turn  out!" 

"  I've  listened  to  the  conversation,  but  can 
understand  nothing  of  it  beyond  the  profanity. 
Can  any  one  inform  me  in  the  darkness  where  I 
am?     Am  I  at  sea?  " 

"  You  are — at  sea,  one  day  out,  in  the  hottest, 
bloodiest  packet  that  floats.  The  mate  wants  you. 
Get  out,  or  he'll  be  here.  Come  on,  now;  we've 
had  trouble  enough  this  day." 

The  flare  of  burning  oakum  in  a  bucket  of 
grease  illumined  the  forecastle  and  the  disfigured 
faces  of  seven  men  who  were  clustered  near  a  lower 
bunk.  From  this  bunk  scrambled  a  sad  wreck.  A 
well-built  young  man  it  was,  with  a  shock  of  long, 
thick  hair  overhanging  a  clean-cut  face,  which  the 
flickering  light  showed  to  be  as  bronzed  by  sun 
and  wind  as  those  of  the  sailors  about  him;  but  in 
this  face  were  weary,  bloodshot  eyes,  and  tell-tale 
lines  that  should  not  have  been  there;  a  quarter- 
inch  stubble  of  beard  and  mustache  covered  the 
lower  part,  and  it  was  further  embellished  by  the 
grime  of  the  gutter.  The  raggedest  rags  that  could 
carry  the  name  of  shirt,  trousers,  or  coat  clothed 
the  body;  sockless  feet  showed  through  holes  in  the 
211 


Shipmates 


shoes,  and  from  the  shoulders,  under  the  coat,  hung 
by  a  piece  of  cord  an  empty  tomato  can  with  bril- 
liant label. 

"Tramp,  be  the  powers!"  said  one.  "Isn't 
thot  the  name  o'  the  bird,  Jim? " 

"  Eight  you  are,  Dennis,"  said  the  one  ad- 
dressed— a  tall,  active  American:  he  who  had  been 
called  "  Yim "  by  the  sympathizing  Swede  with 
the  "  loosed  "  teeth. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  wreck,  "  tramp,  that's  my  latest 
role.  How'd  I  get  here?  I  was  in  a  saloon,  drink- 
ing, but  I  don't  remember  any  more.  I  might 
have  been  drugged.     My  head  feels  light." 

"  It'll  be  heavier  with  a  few  bumps  on  it,"  said 
Dennis.  "  Ye've  been  shanghaied  'long  with  three 
or  four  more  of  us.  Gwan  aft  an'  git  bumped; 
we've  had  our  share." 

"What  craft  is  this?" 

"  Ship  Indiana  o'  New  York.  Ye'U  know  her 
better  'fore  ye  see  the  next  pint  o'  beer." 

"Indiana?"  repeated  the  wreck.  "And  do 
you  happen  to  know,  any  of  you,  who  owns  her? " 

"  Western  Packet  Line,"  said  Jim;  "  J.  L. 
Greenheart's  the  owner.  Get  out  o'  here;  the  mate 
wants  to  see  you." 

"  Thank  you;  but  I  don't  particularly  care  to 
212 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


see  the  mate.  The  captain  will  answer  very  well 
for  me.  Allow  me  to  introduce  myself — J.  L. 
Greenheart,  owner  of  this  ship  and  employer  of 
every  man  on  board." 

Stricken  as  were  those  men  with  sore  spots 
and  aching  bones,  they  burst  into  uproarious  laugh- 
ter at  this  flippant  declaration,  during  which  the 
ragged  one  moved  toward  the  door  and  passed  out. 

^^  Lord  help  him/'  said  Jim,  "  if  he  goes  aft 
with  that  bluff!  The  mates  are  horses,  but  the 
skipper's  a  whole  team." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  ragged  one  returned — 
feet  first  and  unconscious — in  the  arms  of  two  of 
the  watch  on  deck,  who  bundled  him  into  the  bunk 
he  had  lately  quitted  and  said  to  the  inquiring 
men: 

''  We  don't  know  what  happened.  They  had 
a  lively  muss  on  the  poop,  an'  the  skipper  an'  mates 
must  ha'  jumped  on  him;  then  they  called  us  aft 
to  get  him." 

The  two  passed  out,  and  the  seven  men,  with 
no  time  for  sympathy  or  nursing,  chose,  with  much 
bickering,  the  bunks  they  were  to  occupy  for 
the  passage  at  least,  patched  up  their  hurts  with 
w^hat  appliances  they  possessed,  and  turned  in.  But 
they  had  no  sooner  stretched  out  than  the  rasp- 
213 


shipmates 


ing  voice  of  the  second  mate  was  heard  at  the 
door. 

"Heye,  in  there!"  he  called.  "Who's  that 
dock  rat  yeVe  got  with  you? " 

"  Don't  know,  Mr.  Barker/'  answered  Jim  from 
his  bunk.  "  He  didn't  sign  when  we  did — shang- 
haied in  place  of  a  good  man,  likely — but  says  he's 
the  owner." 

"  Did  he  know  the  owner's  name  without  being 
told?" 

"IsTo,  sir — nor  the  name  of  the  ship;  we  told 
him." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  forrard  lower  bunk,  sir — this  side." 

The  second  officer  stepped  in — the  still  burning 
slush-bucket  showing  him  to  be  a  red-whiskered, 
red-eyed  giant — and  scanned  closely  the  grimy  fea- 
tures of  this  latest  pupil  in  nautical  etiquette.  As 
though  there  was  hypnotic  power  in  the  red  eyes, 
the  injured  man  opened  his  own  and  returned  the 
stare,  at  the  same  time  feeling  with  his  fingers  a 
discoloured  swelling  on  his  forehead  that  bore 
plainly  the  stamp  of  a  boot-heel. 

"  An  all-round  hobo;  get  him  out  at  eight  bells, 
if  he  can  move,"  said  the  officer  as  he  left  the 
forecastle. 

214 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


At  four  bells  the  helmsman  was  relieved,  and 
reported  to  his  mates  in  the  watch  on  deck  as 
follows : 

"  He  marches  up  the  poop  steps  an'  tells  the 
mate  suthin'  pretty  sharp,  an'  then,  'fore  the  mate 
could  stop  him,  he  was  down  below  routin'  out  the 
skipper.  They  had  a  run-in  down  there — I  heard 
'em  plain — he  was  orderin'  the  skipper  to  put  back 
to  I^ew  York  an'  land  him,  an'  the  skipper  got  a 
black  eye  out  of  it.  Then  the  second  mate  turns 
out,  an'  the  first  mate  goes  down,  an'  between  'em 
all  three  they  boosts  him  up  the  co'panionway  an' 
kicks  him  round  the  poop  till  he  can't  wiggle." 

And  when  the  lookout  came  down  and  told  of 
his  appearing  on  the  forecastle  deck  shortly  after 
the  second  mate's  visit  and  sitting  for  an  hour  on 
the  port  anchor,  muttering  to  himself  and  answer- 
ing no  questions,  the  watch  on  deck  unanimously 
agreed  that  he  was  demented.  At  eight  bells  he 
was  in  his  bunk,  and  responded  to  the  vigorous 
shaking  he  received  by  planting  his  feet  in  the 
stomach  of  Dennis,  the  shaker,  and  sending  him 
gasping  into  the  opposite  bunk. 

"  Howly  Mother,"  groaned  the  sailor,  when  he 
could  breathe.  "  Say,  you  scrapin's  o'  Newgate, 
try  yer  heels  on  some  one  ilse — the  second  mate, 
215 


Shipmates 


fr  inshtance.     Me  cuticle  won't  hold  any  more 
shpots/' 

Dennis  had  been  disciplined  the  day  before, 
mainly  while  prostrate. 

"  Kicking  seems  to  be  the  vogue  here/'  said 
the  man  as  he  rolled  out,  ^^  and  I've  been  a  Prince- 
ton half-back,  so  I'm  in  it.  I've  been  kicked  out 
of  the  cabin  and  off  the  quarter-deck  of  my  own 
ship — pounded  into  insensibility  with  boot  heels. 
Why  is  this?" 

"  Now  look-a  here,"  said  a  sturdy,  thoughtful- 
eyed  Englishman — he  who  had  vociferated  for  oil 
when  the  watch  went  below — "take  my  advice: 
turn  to  an'  be  civil,  an'  do  as  yer  told.  You  can't 
run  the  after-end  of  her — ye've  tried  it;  you  can't 
run  the  fo'castle — there's  too  many  against  you. 
Stow  that  guff  'bout  ownin'  this  ship  or  ye'U  be 
killed.  There  ain't  a  Dutchman  aboard  but  what's 
a  better  man  than  you,  and  every  one  of  us  has 
been  hammered  an'  kicked  till  we  didn't  know  our 
names.  'Cause  why?  'Cause  it's  the  rule  in  yer 
blasted  Yankee  ships  to  break  in  the  crew  with 
handspikes.  You've  caught  it  harder,  'cause  ye 
didn't  know  better  than  to  go  aft  lookin'  for  trouble. 
The  sooner  ye  find  yer  place  an'  larn  yer  work,  the 
better  for  you." 

216 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 

^^  Thank  you  for  the  advice;  I'll  take  it  if  I 
have  to,  but  it's  against  my  principles  to  work — 
especially  under  compulsion.  My  head  aches,  and 
I'm  pretty  hungry,  otherwise  I " 

'^  Turn  out !  "  roared  a  voice  at  the  door,  the 
command  being  accompanied  by  choice  epithet  and 
profanity.     "  Bear  a  hand." 

"  Who  is  that? "  asked  the  man  of  principles. 
"  I've  heard  that  voice." 

^^  Second  mate,"  whispered  the  Englishman; 
''  don't  go  first,"  he  added,  mercifully,  ^^  nor  last." 

The  first  man  to  leave  the  forecastle  was  Lars, 
the  Swede,  who  received  a  blow  in  the  face  that 
sent  him  reeling  against  the  fife-rail.  Then  came 
Dennis;  then  Tom,  the  Englishman;  followed  by 
Ned,  a  burly  German;  Fred,  the  ordinary  seaman; 
and  David,  a  loose-jointed  Highlander,  who  the  day 
before  had  lost  all  his  front  teeth  by  the  swinging 
blow  of  a  heaver  and  had  since,  for  obvious  reasons, 
added  no  Scotch  dialect  to  the  forecastle  discourse. 
All  these  escaped  that  big  fist,  the  second  blow, 
according  to  packet-ship  ethics,  being  reserved  for 
the  last  man  out;  and  the  last  man  out  now  was 
the  man  of  rags. 

But  Mr.  Barker  had  not  time  to  deliver  that 
blow.  A  dirty  fist  preceded  its  owner  through 
15  217 


shipmates 


the  door,  striking  the  mate  between  the  eyes,  and 
before  the  whirling  points  of  light  had  ceased  to 
dazzle  his  inner  vision  a  second  blow,  crashing 
under  his  ear,  sent  him,  big  man  that  he  was, 
nearly  as  far  as  Lars  had  gone.  Recovering  him- 
self, with  a  furious  oath  he  seized  a  belaying-pin 
from  the  fife-rail  and  sprang  at  his  assailant.  One 
futile  blow  only  he  dealt,  and  the  pin  was  wrenched 
from  his  grasp  and  dropped  to  the  deck;  then  with 
an  iron-hard  elbow  pressing  his  throat,  and  a  sinewy 
left  arm  bearing,  fulcrum-like,  on  his  backbone,  he 
was  bent  over,  gasping,  struggling,  and  vainly 
striking,  lifted  from  his  feet,  and  hurled  headlong 
to  the  forehatch. 

"  You  are  one  of  the  three  with  whom  I  dealt 
in  the  cabin,''  said  a  voice  above  him  in  the  dark- 
ness; "now  face  me  alone,  curse  you!  Get  up 
here  and  fight  it  out." 

"  Mr.  Pratt,"  called  the  officer,  rising  unstead- 
ily.    "Mr,  Pratt!     Come  forrard,  sir." 

It  was  a  black  night,  with  a  promise  of  dirty 
weather  to  come  in  the  sky  astern,  and  the  ship 
was  charging  along  under  top-gallant  sails  before  a 
half-gale  of  wind,  against  which  no  sounds  from 
near  the  bow  could  easily  reach  the  quarter-deck. 
Only  at  rare  intervals  did  the  full  moon  show 
218 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


through  the  dense  storm  clouds  racing  overhead, 
and  Mr.  Barker  was  alone  on  a  dark  deck,  sur- 
rounded by  fifteen  men,  not  one  of  whom  would 
have  prayed  for  him.  Dazed  as  he  was,  he  knew 
his -danger — knew  that  all  these  men  needed  was 
a  leader,  a  master-spirit,  to  arouse  them  from  the 
submissive  apathy  of  the  foremast  hand  to  bloody 
retaliation.  And  a  leader  seemed  to  have  appeared. 
Lars  complained  bitterly  as  he  held  his  bleeding 
face.  Angry  mutterings  came  from  the  others; 
some  drew  sheath-knives,  some  abstracted  belaying- 
pins  from  the  rail;  and  a  few,  Tom  among  them, 
supplied  themselves  with  capstan-bars  from  the  rack 
at  the  break  of  the  top-gallant  forecastle. 

''  Mr.  Pratt !  "  bawled  the  demoralized  officer 
as  he  backed  away  from  his  challenger;  then,  as 
though  suddenly  remembering,  he  drew  a  revolver 
from  his  pocket  and  pointed  it  at  the  man  confront- 
ing him.  At  that  moment,  a  lithe,  springy  man 
bounded  into  the  group  from  around  the  comer 
of  the  forward  house.  Flourishing  an  iron  belay- 
ing-pin,  he  yelled: 

"What's  the  matter  here?  Lay  aft,  you 
hounds — lay  aft!  Aft  with  you  all.  Mr.  Barker, 
you  here? " 

"  Here  you  are,  sir — this  feller  here." 
219 


shipmates 


A  momentary  appearance  of  tlie  moon  gave 
the  newcomer  light  to  see  the  levelled  pistol  and 
the  man  covered  by  it,  who  seemed  to  be  hesitating 
and  about  to  look  around.  One  bound  carried  him 
close.  Down  crashed  the  iron  pin  on  the  man's 
head,  and  without  a  word  or  a  groan  he  fell,  limp 
and  lifeless,  to  the  edge  of  the  hatch,  and  rolled  to 
the  deck.  A  menacing  circle  closed  around  the  two 
officers.  "  Shame,  shame ! ''  cried  the  men.  ^^  He 
warn't  in  his  right  mind;  he  didn't  know  what  he 
was  doin'." 

"  It's  bloody  murder,  that's  what  it  is,"  shouted 
Tom  in  a  fury  of  horror  and  rage.  ''  Blast  you, 
kill  a  man  from  behind  who  only  wanted  a  fair 
fight !  "  He  whirled  his  capstan-bar  aloft,  but  held 
it  poised,  for  he  was  looking  into  the  barrel  of  the 
chief  officer's  pistol. 

"Drop  that  handspike — drop  it  quick!"  said 
Mr.  Pratt.     "  Quick,  or  I'll  shoot  you  dead." 

Tom  allowed  the  six-foot  club  to  slip  slowly 
through  his  fingers  until  it  struck  the  deck;  then 
he  let  it  fall,  saying  sulkily :  "  Needs  must  when 
the  devil  drives;  but  it's  only  a  matter  of  time,  a 
matter  of  time.     I'll  have  you  hung." 

"  Put  up  your  knives,  every  one  of  you.     Put 
those  belaying-pins  back  in  their  places,  quick/^ 
220 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


snapped  the  officer.  The  two  pistols  wandered 
around  the  group,  and  the  men  fell  back  and  obeyed 
him. 

''  Now  lay  aft,  every  man  jack  of  you." 

The  incipient  mutiny  was  quelled.  They  were 
driven  aft  before  the  pistols  to  the  main  hatch, 
where  they  surrendered  their  sheath-knives  and  re- 
ceived a  clean-cut  lecture  on  their  moral  defects 
from  the  first  officer;  then  Tom  was  invited  to 
insert  his  hands  into  a  pair  of  shackles.  He  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  (the  pistols  were  still  in  evi- 
dence); and  while  he  was  being  fastened  to  a 
stanchion  in  the  half -deck  the  men  at  the  wheel 
and  lookout  were  relieved  and  the  port  watch  dis- 
missed. 

Tom,  with  forecastle  philosophy,  congratulated 
himself  on  his  present  immunity  from  standing 
watch  and  stretched  out  for  a  nap,  flat  on  his  broad 
back,  with  arms  elevated  and  hanging  by  the 
handcuffs  above  his  head.  He  had  nearly  dozed 
off  when  the  booby-hatch  was  opened  and  another 
prisoner  was  bundled  down  the  steps,  moaning  pite- 
ously;  and,  as  he  was  being  ironed  to  the  next 
stanchion,  Tom  recognised,  by  the  light  of  the 
mate's  lantern,  the  ragged  violator  of  precedent. 

''  Blow  me,  matey,  but  y^r  hard  to  kill,"  he 
221 


shipmates 


said,  when  the  mate  had  gone.  ''  I  thought  you 
were  done  for.  Know  me?  I'm  the  feller  that 
advised  ye  to  go  slow.'' 

"  Oh,  yes.  What  happened?  Why  are  we 
here  ?     What  place  is  this  ?  " 

"  'Tween  decks.  We  were  unkind  to  the 
mates — blast  'em — that's  why  we're  here.  I'd 
ha'  knocked  the  first  mate  stiffer  than  he  knocked 
you  'f  it  hadn't  been  for  his  gun." 

"Was  it  the  first  mate  who  struck  me?  Oh, 
there'll  be  an  accounting — my  head!  Oh,  my 
head!  "  groaned  the  man.  "  I  believe  I'm  injured 
for  life." 

"  Ye  were  too  reckless,  old  man ;  ye  oughter 
ha'  watched  for  the  mate.  He's  a  holy  terror;  he 
half  killed  all  hands  yesterday;  that's  why  we 
couldn't  stand  by  ye  better.  He  jumped  off  the 
fo'castle  on  to  Dennis,  an'  the  two  o'  them  kicked 
him  all  round  the  forehatch.  David  was  knocked 
endwise  with  a  heaver  for  goin'  to  windward  o'  the 
skipper,  an'  his  teeth  are  all  gone.  Lars  got  soaked 
at  the  wheel — that's  against  the  law,  too;  and  ye 
see  him  get  it  again  to-night.  Dutch  Ned  let  go 
the  to'-gallant  sheet,  an'  the  second  mate  sent  him 
twenty  feet.  I  got  it  in  the  nose  just  'fore  goin' 
below  at  eight  bells,  for  no  reason  on  earth  but 
222 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


'cause  I  was  the  only  man  left  who  hadn't  got 
soaked — besides  Fred,  the  boy;  he  got  clear.  An' 
the  other  watch  got  it  just  as  bad.  We're  all  used 
up  an'  no  good  at  all;  but  you  got  it  hardest,  'cause 
ye  earned  it.  Blow  me,  but  ye  done  the  second 
mate  up  brown." 

'^  But  why  is  it  necessary,  and  why  do  you 
submit  to  it — all  you  men  at  the  mercy  of  three  ?  " 

"  Pistols,  matey,  the  pistols.  An'  Yankee 
mates  are  all  trained  buckoes — rather  fight  than 
eat.  When  the  fists  an'  boots  an'  belayin'-pins  an' 
handspikes  can't  do  the  business  they  pull  their 
guns — we  knew  that.  An'  then,  too,  mutiny's  a 
serious  thing  when  yer  hauled  up  'fore  the  commis- 
sioner: all  the  law's  mostly  against  the  sailors." 

"  I  have  been  drugged,  kidnapped,  and  twice 
beaten  insensible;  there  is  law  against  that." 

"  If  ye  can  get  it;  but  ye  can't." 

"  I'll  try— I'll  try;  I've  read  a  little  law." 

"  Yer  not  a  sailorman,  matey,  I  can  see;  what's 
yer  trade?" 

"  I  have  none." 

"Never  worked?" 

"  ITo." 

"  Jim  says  you  fellers  just  hoof  it  round  the 
country,  sleepin'  under  haystacks  summer-times  an' 
223 


Shipmates 


goin'  to  jail  winters.  It's  better  than  goin'  to  sea. 
But  ye  talk  like  a  man  that's  been  educated  once. 
"What  brought  ye  down  to  this — whisky?'^ 

"  Y-e-s,  and  knockout  drops.  My  head  is  get- 
ting worse.  I  can't  talk.  How  can  I  lie  down? 
What  fiends  they  are!     My  head — my  head!  " 

Tom  advised  the  suffering  wretch  how  to  dis- 
pose himself,  and  again  considered  the  question 
of  sleep.  But  no  sleep  came  to  him  that  night. 
The  injured  man  began  muttering  to  himself;  and 
this  muttering,  at  times  intelligible,  at  others  not, 
often  rising  to  a  shriek  of  pain,  lasted  until  morning 
and  kept  him  awake.  In  spite  of  his  life  of  hard 
knocks,  Tom  had  so  far  learned  nothing  of  the 
alternate  delirium  and  lucidity  consequent  on  slight 
brain  concussion,  and  supposed  this  to  be  the  raving 
of  insanity.  Kind-hearted  as  he  was,  the  ceaseless 
jargon  grated  on  his  nerves.  He  listened  to  it  and 
the  sounds  of  shortening  sail  overhead,  and  wished 
himself  on  deck,  in  the  wet  and  cold,  away  from 
this  suffering,  beyond  his  power  to  understand  or 
relieve.  At  daylight,  nearly  at  the  shrieking  point 
himself,  he  welcomed  the  throwing  back  of  the 
scuttle  and  the  appearance  of  the  first  mate,  who, 
in  yellow  sou'-wester  and  long  oilskin  coat,  de- 
scended the  ladder  and  stepped  to  the  side  of  his 
224 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


victim.  Mr.  Pratt  was  a  young  man,  well  put  to- 
gether, with  black  hair  and  whiskers,  and  dull 
gray  eyes  set  in  a  putty-coloured  face.  It  was 
a  face  that  might  grin,  but  never  could  smile; 
yet  it  wore,  as  it  bent  over  the  moaning,  tossing 
bundle  of  rags  and  blood,  an  expression  of  mental 
disquiet. 

"  How  long's  he  been  like  this? "  he  suddenly 
demanded  of  Tom. 

"  Ever  since  he  come  down,  sir.  If  you  please, 
sir,  I'd  like  to  be  put  somewhere  else  or  turn  to. 
I  wasn't  myself  last  night,  Mr.  Pratt.  I'll  be  crazy 
as  he  is  if  I  stay  here  with  him." 

In  answer  to  this  Tom  received  two  or  three 
kicks  in  the  ribs;  then  the  officer  went  on  deck,  re- 
turning in  a  few  moments  with  the  captain  of  the 
ship — a  man  who  in  the  role  of  jolly  sea-dog  might 
play  a  part  well  borne  out  by  his  physique.  He 
was  the  very  opposite  in  appearance  to  his  chief 
mate — short,  broad,  and  smooth-faced,  with  an  up- 
turn to  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  twinkling 
blue  eyes,  which,  in  spite  of  a  dark  circle  around 
one  of  them,  gave  his  countenance  a  deceptive  look 
of  suppressed  merriment. 

"  So,  ho,  my  man,"  he  said,  breezily,  "  so  you 
nearly  kill  my  second  officer,  do  you?  " 
225 


shipmates 


"  ~Soi  this  fellow,  Captain  Millen/'  said  the 
mate;  ^^  not  him,  the  other.  This  man  raised  a 
handspike  over  me  and  threatened  to  hang  me." 

"  I  was  excited,  cappen,''  said  Tom.  "  I 
thought  Mr.  Pratt  had  killed  the  man,  which  he 
didn't.'^ 

"  Will  you  promise  to  turn  to  and  do  your 
work,  and  obey  orders  civilly,  if  I  let  you  out? '' 

''  Yes,  sir." 

"Unlock  him,  Mr.  Pratt." 

Tom  was  released.  Rising  to  his  feet,  he  said, 
respectfully:  "Will  I  go  on  deck,  sir?" 

"  Go  on,"  answered  the  captain. 

But  Tom  was  not  to  escape  so  easily.  As  he 
passed  them  Captain  Milieu's  sledge-like  fist  shot 
out,  and  he  fell  in  a  heap. 

"  On  deck  with  you,"  thundered  the  captain, 
whose  eyes  had  not  ceased  to  twinkle  during  the 
performance.  Tom  rose  again,  sneaked  up  the  lad- 
der and  passed  forward,  where  he  showed  his  ship- 
mates an  eye  that  in  ten  minutes  was  blacker  than 
the  captain's. 

Captain  Millen  and  Mr.  Pratt  stooped  over  and 
examined  the  remaining  prisoner,  now  unconscious 
and  breathing  heavily,  and  the  mate  asked,  un- 
easily: "  Think  I've  done  for  him,  sir? " 
226 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


''  Can't  tell;  he's  all  blood  and  the  cut's  hidden, 
and  I  wouldn't  touch  him  with  a  fish-pole.  I  never 
shipped  this  hoodlum;  the  runners  kept  back  a  man 
and  sent  him." 

"  The  Englishman  says  he's  crazy — the  men 
forrard,  too;  might  be,  or  his  yarn  about  owning 
the  ship's  just  the  bluff  of  a  tramp." 

"Possibly  he's  daft;  but  he  didn't  know  the 
ship's  name  or  the  owner's  name  till  the  men  told 
him,  so  Mr.  Barker  says;  and  when  I  told  him  in 
the  cabin  that  the  owner  was  a  gray-headed  man, 
it  threw  him  out.  Guess  it's  only  a  bluff.  Have 
you  logged  him? " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Wrote  him  down  just  after  I  ironed 
him." 

"I'll  put  him  in  the  official  log  as  a  maniac; 
evidence  enough  even  without  the  men's  testimony 
— forces  himself  into  my  cabin  and  claims  to  own 
the  ship,  and  orders  me  to  run  back  to  New  York 
and  land  him;  unprovoked  assault  on  an  officer, 
and  display  of  maniacal  strength.  You  see,  Mr. 
Pratt,  if  he  dies  it'll  look  better  for  us,  and  par- 
ticularly you,  to  have  him  crazy;  extra  severity  is 
necessary  and  excusable  in  dealing  with  dangerous 
lunatics.  But  we  don't  want  him  to  die — we're 
too  short-handed." 

227 


Shipmates 


"  Shall  I  have  the  steward  down  to  fix  him 
up,  sir? " 

"  Yes,  and  tell  him  to  get  what  he  wants  from 
the  medicine  chest;  and  better  be  more  careful,  Mr. 
Pratt;  it  don't  pay  to  get  the  law  after  you.  I 
know  it  was  dark  and  Mr.  Barker  was  badly  scared; 
but,  just  the  same,  a  light  whack  will  always  an- 
swer. N'ever  strike  a  man  near  the  temple,  es- 
pecially with  an  iron  belaying-pin  or  a  hand- 
spike; and  when  you  have  him  down,  kick  him 
on  the  legs  or  above  the  short  ribs.  It's  alto- 
gether unnecessary  to  disable  a  man,  and  un- 
wise with  a  short  crew.  Be  more  careful,  Mr. 
Pratt." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  pupil  humbly;  "  but  they 
had  their  knives  out,  and  I  had  no  time  to  pick 
spots;  I  just  let  go." 

They  left  the  half -deck,  and  the  steward,  busy 
with  the  cabin  breakfast,  was  ordered  to  desist  and 
attend  to  the  wants  of  the  prisoner,  which  repug- 
nant duty  he  performed  perfunctorily,  yet  with 
the  result  of  bringing  him  to  consciousness  and 
inducing  him  to  eat.  This,  his  first  meal  since  he 
had  come  aboard,  was  followed  by  a  refreshing 
sleep,  with  his  bandaged  head  pillowed  on  a  coil 
of  new  rope;  and  when  he  wakened  in  the  afternoon 
228 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


he  was  able,  with  his  shackles  removed  to  his  an- 
kles, to  minister  to  his  own  hurts. 

His  condition  improved  steadily;  but  a  week 
passed  before  his  nerves  and  faculties  were  suf- 
ficiently under  control  to  warrant  him  in,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  taking  another  fall  out  o'  them." 
He  sent  a  request  for  an  interview  to  the  captain, 
who  granted  it. 

"  Well,  what  d'ye  want? ''  he  roared,  before  he 
was  half-way  down  the  ladder. 

"  Want  to  talk  to  you,''  answered  the  uncon- 
quered  wreck,  in  nearly  as  loud  a  tone. 

"  Y'  do,  hey?  Well,  talk  civil,  and  be  quick 
about  it." 

^^  Exactly.  I  am  anxious  to  impress  upon 
your  mind,  as  quickly  as  your  mind  will  receive 
the  impression,  the  fact  that  you  have  made  a  seri- 
ous mistake — that  you  have  maltreated  and  con- 
fined in  irons,  on  board  one  of  his  own  ships,  John 
L.  Greenheart,  your  employer.  You  have  not  met 
him  before,  because  you  have  only  dealt  with 
James  L.  Greenheart,  his  uncle  and  manager." 

"  Oh,  you've  struck  a  new  lay,  have  you — in- 
vented a  nephew  to  carry  out  your  bluff?  Well, 
it  don't  go."  But  there  was  a  look  of  intelligent 
earnestness  in  the  weary  eyes  of  the  claimant  that 
229 


Shipmates 


induced  Captain  Millen  to  continue  in  defence  of 
his  denial — a  needless  waste  of  words,  liad  lie 
stopped  to  think. 

"  I've  sailed  in  this  employ  twenty-five  years/' 
he  stormed;  "  and  I  know,  if  I  know  anything,  that 
there  are  no  vagabonds  in  the  Greenheart  family. 
Why,  you  infernal  jail-bird,  your  dirty  hide  is  as 
tanned  as  a  shell-back's  from  tramping  the  high- 
ways." 

"  Just  back  from  a  yachting  cruise  in  southern 
waters,  captain — I  haven't  yet  learned  your 
name." 

"  Eats!  And  when  did  you  shave  last?  What 
kind  of  clothes  do  ship-owners  wear?  " 

''  I  was  slumming  disguised  as  a  tramp  when 
I  was  drugged  and  kidnapped.  As  for  being  un- 
shaved,  I  was  in  the  middle  of  a  champagne  spree 
— or  I  shouldn't  have  gone  slumming  at  all — and 
scissored  off  my  beard  to  heighten  the  disguise." 

Captain  Millen  did  not  know  what  ^'  slum- 
ming "  meant,  and  did  not  care  to  ask,  so  he  lis- 
tened no  further.  The  interview  ended  with  a 
hearty  round  of  profane  abuse  from  him,  and  the 
aphorism,  "  Every  dog  has  his  day,"  from  the 
other. 

A  few  days  later  he  sent  a  second  request  to 
230 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


the  quarter-deck  for  a  talk  with  the  captain,  but 
the  favour  was  not  granted.  Fred,  the  messenger, 
who  now  brought  his  meals  from  the  forecastle, 
repeated  the  errand  on  the  following  day,  was 
kicked  off  the  quarter-deck,  and  refused  to  go 
again;  so  it  was  another  week  before  he  was  able  to 
communicate.  Then  Mr.  Barker,  rummaging  the 
half -deck  in  the  line  of  duty,  listened  to  a  proposi- 
tion that  he  be  allowed  to  work  with  the  crew  on 
terms  of  abdication  and  submission.  This  brought 
the  captain. 

"  My  health  is  suffering  from  this  confine- 
ment," he  said.  "  I  can  not  eat  the  swill  you  feed 
to  me  without  the  appetite  coming  from  exercise  in 
the  open  air.  I  am  willing  to  work  as  a  common 
sailor;  and  as  you  will  not  recognise  the  name  I 
give  you,  I  will  answer  to  any.'' 

"  Will  you  shut  up  about  that  owner  racket? '' 

''  I  will." 

"  And  do  as  you're  told,  and  try  to  learn  your 
work,  so  that  you  can  be  worth  your  grub? " 

''  Yes." 

"^Yes'?  Say  ^  Yes,  sir,'  when  you  speak  to 
me  or  the  officers.     Learn  that  first." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  All  right;  and  mind  you,  any  monkey  work'll 
231 


Shipmates 


get  you  into  more  trouble.  You're  on  the  articles 
as  Hans  Johanne  Von  Dagerman,  Dutchman,  able 
seaman,  fourteen  dollars  a  month,  and  a  month's 
advance — remember  that  when  you're  paid  off. 
And  you're  down  in  my  official  log  as  a  dangerous 
lunatic.  If  you  raise  any  row  aboard  my  ship, 
you'll  be  shot,  and  your  character  and  record  will 
excuse  it.     Understand?" 

''  I  do.  I  accept  the  warning,  the  name,  the 
nationality,  and  the  conditions — even  the  lunacy. 
Only,  captain,  as  I  am  officially  insane,  I  can  not 
be  punished  if  I  kill  you  all  three — remember 
that."      The  weary  eyes  were  sparkling. 

''  Oh,  that's  your  game,  is  it?  Want  to  get  out 
to  kill  somebody?  Down  you  go  in  my  log  as 
threatening  my  life  and  the  lives  of  my  officers,  and 
here  you  stay  in  double-irons  on  bread  and  water. '^ 

So  he  was  logged  again,  and  another  pair  of 
manacles  fastened  to  his  wrists,  with  a  foot  of  chain 
connecting  the  centre  links  to  the  stanchion.  This 
gave  him  scope  to  lift  from  the  deck  to  his  mouth 
the  one  biscuit  allowed  him  each  day,  and  to  drink 
from  his  tomato  can,  which  had  been  saved  for 
him.  But  it  was  not  the  diet  that  broke  him  down. 
The  water  was  good;  and  the  biscuit,  though  not 
the  soft,  fluffy  morsel  eaten  at  tea-tables  on  shore, 
232 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


was  the  cleanest  and  sweetest  food  on  the  forecastle 
menu,  and  one  a  day  was  as  much  as  he  could  mas- 
ticate during  his  waking  hours.  It  was  the  confine- 
ment and  double-irons.  After  three  weeks,  pale  and 
emaciated,  he  sent  up  another  plea  for  liberty,  in 
which  he  relinquished  the  privileges  of  the  insane; 
and  to  Captain  Millen,  when  he  appeared,  he  prom- 
ised a  line  of  good  behaviour  while  on  board  which 
debarred  him  the  right  to  return  a  blow.  He  made 
this  promise  on  his  honour,  which  he  said  was  all 
they  had  left  him.  As  the  ship  was  short-handed, 
the  captain  accepted  the  promise  and  his  services. 
Then,  with  his  tomato  can  in  his  hand,  able  seaman 
Hans  Johanne  Von  Dagerman,  as  we  must  now 
know  him,  went  forward,  a  member  of  the  star- 
board watch.  At  the  end  of  the  first  day  he  had 
proved  his  incapacity  and  was  disrated  to  ordinary 
seaman,  at  eleven  dollars  a  month.  This  did  not 
trouble  him,  until,  having  heard  of  the  "  slop- 
chest  " — the  store  of  clothing  which  captains  lay 
in  to  sell  to  sailors  at  sea — he  learned  that  he  could 
not  purchase  until  out  of  debt  to  the  ship.  His  pay 
had  stopped  when  he  became  a  prisoner,  and  the 
time  required  to  work  off  the  fourteen  dollars  ad- 
vance charged  against  him  brought  the  ship,  bound 
to  Shanghai,  well  into  the  chilly  weather  to  the 
16  233 


shipmates 


south  of  Cape  of  Good  Hope  before  he  could  draw 
from  the  slop-chest ;  and  then  he  bought,  not  cloth- 
ing, but  salt-water  soap,  with  which  he  washed  his 
own  and  the  scant  supply  of  rags  contributed  by  his 
pitying  shipmates,  and  took  a  chilly  bath  over  the 
bows  with  a  draw-bucket.  He  was  certainly  insane, 
and  the  men  not  only  pitied  him  but  feared  him, 
forbearing  all  the  petty  persecutions  which  able 
seamen  may  inflict  on  a  green  hand  in  the  watch 
below.  He  occasionally  borrowed  his  friend  Tom's 
scissors  and  looking-glass  and  kept  his  growing 
beard  trimmed  to  a  point — an  outlandish,  lubberly 
style,  inspired,  no  doubt,  by  his  lunacy.  He  manu- 
factured, from  the  inner  bristles  of  a  condemned 
paint-brush,  a  fairly  serviceable  tooth-brush,  with 
which,  and  a  piece  of  bath-brick  coaxed  from  the 
cook,  he  scoured  his  teeth — remarkably  white  and 
well-set — after  each  meal.  Every  morning,  no 
matter  what  the  weather,  he  took  his  douche-bath, 
using  up  valuable  time  in  his  watch  below  for  the 
performance.  When  he  had  earned  more  money, 
he  bought  clothing,  and  paid  his  debts  to  his  mates 
in  kind — new  shirts,  etc.,  for  old;  and  then  only  did 
he  buy  for  himself.  He  refused  to  talk  of  his  past, 
but  frankly  confessed  to  the  others  that  he  was 
crazy.  All  these  idiosyncrasies  counted  against 
234 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


him,  and  drifting  aft,  through  the  medium  of  the 
cook  and  steward,  were  entered  in  the  official  log 
as  additional  evidence  of  his  mental  derangemnt. 

He  seemed  to  know  something  of  sailors'  work 
when  he  began — that  is,  he  knew  starboard  from 
port,  and  the  names  of  the  sails,  but  not  the  ropes; 
and  he  could  steer  well  enough  to  take  his  trick  in 
fine  weather.  He  learned  rapidly,  tutored  by  Tom 
and  Jim;  and,  though  often  making  mistakes  that 
brought  him  abuse  and  sometimes  knockdowns,  he 
never  resented,  only  showing,  by  the  sombre  spark- 
ling of  his  weary  eyes,  that  he  appreciated  and  re- 
membered. The  big  second  mate,  however,  though 
prolific  in  profanely  worded  expressions  of  disap- 
proval, avoided  personal  contact  with  him,  candidly 
admitting  to  Mr.  Pratt  that  once  was  enough  for 
one  lifetime  and  that  he  took  no  stock  in  the  prom- 
ises  of  crazy  men. 

At  Shanghai,  Hans  Johanne  Yon  Dagerman 
applied  for  liberty  to  go  ashore,  which  was  denied 
him;  for  he  had  drawn  his  wages  up  to  date  in  slop- 
clothing,  and  with  nothing  to  hold  him  to  the  ship, 
he  might  desert.  As  a  consequence,  he  slipped 
overboard  in  the  night,  swam  ashore,  hid  until 
morning,  and  entered  the  office  of  the  American 
consul  just  as  Captain  Millen  had  finished  reading 
235 


Shipmates 


to  that  gentleman  from  the  official  log  an  account 
of  his  misdoing.  The  consul  listened  to  the  de- 
serter's story,  and  was  so  impressed  with  its  un- 
truthfulness and  so  incensed  by  his  violent  de- 
mands that  he  depose  Captain  Millen  from  com- 
mand, that  he  ordered  him  back  to  the  ship  in 
irons.  He  remained  in  the  half -deck  until  the  ship 
sailed  for  New  York,  and  was  then  glad  to  be  re- 
leased on  a  second  promise  of  good  conduct. 

On  the  homeward  passage  he  kept  his  place  and 
his  promise,  becoming,  under  the  influence  of  his 
watch-mates,  who  began  to  like  him,  a  fairly  pro- 
ficient sailorman — quick  and  intelligent  in  judg- 
ment, active  and  strong  in  the  execution  of  orders. 
The  ozone  of  the  sea,  with  his  hygienic  personal 
habits,  religiously  clung  to,  had  cleared  the  blood- 
shot eye,  smoothed  the  premature  lines  in  his  sun- 
burned face,  and  transformed  him  from  the  dilapi- 
dated wreck  of  humanity  first  introduced  to  as 
healthy  and  manly-looking  a  sailor  as  ever  pulled 
a  rope. 

The  ship  reached  New  York,  and  Captain  Mil- 
len, according  to  instructions  brought  to  him  at 
Quarantine,  anchored  the  Indiana  off  Staten  Island 
pending  the  vacating  of  her  dock  by  another  ship. 
As  this  would  not  be  for  a  fortnight,  the  men  were 
236 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


sent  ashore  on  a  tug,  and  three  days  later  paid  off 
at  the  shipping-office.  Then  they  disappeared  from 
the  ken  and  concern  of  Captain  Millen  and  his  offi- 
cers, who,  with  the  steward,  remained  by  the  ship, 
killing  time  as  best  they  could.  Smoking  lazily  un- 
der the  quarter-deck  awning  one  day,  they  became 
interested  in  a  large  steam  yacht  approaching  on 
the  starboard  quarter.  A  dainty  piece  of  cabinet- 
work she  was,  glistening  with  varnish  paint  and 
polished  brass,  with  the  American  yacht  ensign  at 
the  stern  and  the  burgee  of  the  l^ew  York  Yacht 
Club  at  the  fore-truck,  yet  showing,  by  her  square 
stern  and  gaffs  peaked  from  the  deck,  her  probable 
English  origin.  Blue-shirted  sailors  dotted  her 
white  deck,  two  uniformed  officers  conned  her  from 
the  bridge;  and  aft,  on  the  fan-tail,  seated  in  a 
wicker-work  deck  chair,  was  a  white-haired  old 
gentleman.  Captain  Millen,  viewing  her  through 
his  glasses,  suddenly  exclaimed: 

"Why,  it's  old  Greenheart!  Getting  gay  in 
his  old  age,  buying  steam  yachts.  Hope  he  won't 
dock  my  pay  to  make  up  for  this." 

As  the  beautiful  craft  drew  up  alongside  and 

stopped,  the  old  gentleman  arose  and  took  off  his 

cap,  which  salute  they  answered;  then  a  gig  was 

lowered,  manned  by  a  neatly  dressed  crew,  and 

237 


Shipmates 


steered  to  the  ship's  gangway  by  a  spruce  young 
cockswain,  who  mounted  the  side  and  approached 
them.    Touching  his  cap,  he  said: 

"  Mr.  Greenheart  would  like  to  see  Captain 
Millen,  Mr.  Pratt,  and  Mr.  Barker  on  board  the 
yacht.'' 

"  Well,  well — certainly — yes,  of  course,"  said 
the  captain.  "Pratt,  get  a  collar  on;  you,  too. 
Barker.  'Tisn't  every  day  we  get  into  good  so- 
ciety. Hurry  up.  Eeady  in  a  minute,  young  fel- 
low." The  cockswain  descended  to  the  gig,  and 
the  two  mates  to  their  rooms,  where  they  made 
such  hurried  toilet  as  the  urgency  would  admit  of. 
As  they  came  up,  the  captain  said  impressively: 

"  Don't  let  on,  now,  that  you  expect  anything: 
the  old  man's  finicky;  but  I  think  this  means  pro- 
motion for  all  of  us.  The  new  ship  was  launched 
last  week,  and  I'm  more  than  likely  to  get  her. 
That'll  leave  a  vacancy  here,  and  Pve  spoken  well 
of  both  of  you.    But  don't  let  on." 

They  entered  the  gig  and  were  pulled  to  the 
yacht,  where,  on  climbing  the  gangway  steps,  they 
found  the  side  manned  for  them.  Two  lines  of 
men,  marshalled  by  a  keen-eyed  second  mate,  who 
stared  curiously  at  the  visitors,  stretched  across 
the  deck,  forming  a  lane  through  which  they  must 
238 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 

pass.  And  these  two  lines  were  composed  of  the 
port  and  starboard  watches  of  the  Indiana,  spick 
and  span,  in  clean  blue  uniform,  each  man  gazing 
stonily  over  the  shoulder  of  his  vis-d-vis,  and  only 
one  giving  any  sign  of  recognition.  David,  who  had 
not  smiled  during  the  voyage,  now  grinned  cheer- 
fully around  a  set  of  false  teeth.  Agape  with  as- 
tonishment, the  three  visitors  passed  on  until  they 
were  met  by  the  smiling  old  gentleman,  who  shook 
hands  with  them  and  said: 

"  A  little  out  of  the  ordinary,  captain — no,  not 
my  yacht — my  nephew's.  He  has  just  returned 
from  abroad,  and  thinks  he  was  in  the  China  seas 
about  the  time  you  were  there.  He  wants  to  meet 
you  and  compare  notes,  and  suggested  a  spin  down 
the  bay.  John,''  he  called  down  the  cabin  stairs, 
^'  will  you  come  up?  Captain  Milieu  is  here.  Al- 
low me  to  introduce  you.  Gentlemen,  my  nephew, 
Mr.  Greenheart.  John,  this  is  Captain  Millen,  our 
commodore " 

"  Exactly." 

Hans  Johanne  Yon  Dagerman  had  come  up  the 
stairs  and  seated  himself  in  the  deck  chair.  His 
tar-stained  hands  were  hidden  in  gloves;  his  sym- 
metrical figure  was  clad  in  the  New  York  Yacht 
Club  uniform,  and  the  weary  eyes  glittered  in  his 
239 


Shipmates 


bronzed  face  with  an  expression  as  deadly  in  its 
earnestness  as  was  the  gesture  which  brought  two 
revolvers  from  his  pockets  and  up  to  a  line  with 
the  visitors'  heads. 

"Exactly/^  he  repeated;  "we've  met  before. 
Don't  trouble  yourself  to  introduce  them,  uncle — 
allow  me.  Allow  me  to  make  you  acquainted  with 
three  as  black-hearted,  inhuman  scoundrels  as  ever 
disgraced  humanity." 

"Why,  John — John,  what  does  this  mean?" 
exclaimed  the  puzzled  old  gentleman,  while  Cap- 
tain Millen,  pale  and  embarrassed,  stuttered: 

"I  didn't  know,  sir;  why  didn't  you  tell  me? " 
Mr.  Pratt  and  Mr.  Barker  said  nothing,  but  looked 
from  the  levelled  pistols  forward  to  the  two  lines 
of  observant  men,  and  noticed  that  the  yacht  was 
under  way  and  now  heading  for  sea. 

"Uncle,  how  long  has  Captain  Millen  com- 
manded a  ship  for  father? " 

"Over  twenty-five  years,  John;  and  he  now 
stands  first — as  good,  capable,  and  honest  a  captain 
as  ever  sailed  a  ship.     I  am  astonished." 

"  Um-humph — I  see.     Yet  I  am  afraid  that  if 

father  knows  now  how  his  money  was  made — how 

every  dollar  was  wrung  from  the  sweat,  and  the 

blood,  and  the  suffering  of  slaves — he  is  not  resting 

240 


The  Day  of  the  Dog 


easy  in  his  grave.  Uncle,  you  are  getting  old.  In 
a  week  I  shall  expect  a  statement  of  the  business 
of  the  line,  with  the  names  and  whereabouts  of 
the  ships  and  the  names  of  the  captains.  There  is 
going  to  be  one  line  of  American  sailing  ships  con- 
ducted on  humane  principles.  But  before  you  re- 
linquish control,  examine  the  official  log  of  the 
Indiana  for  the  last  voyage,  and  you  will  learn 
that  one  Hans  Johanne  Yon  Dagerman  is  insane 
and  not  responsible  for  his  actions.  An  official 
log  is  excellent  testimony  in  court.  Now,  then, 
you  three,  off  with  your  coats  and  throw  them  down 
the  companionway — quickly,  or  I'll  lift  the  tops 
of  your  heads." 

He  was  still  seated  in  the  deck  chair,  but  his 
voice  rang  out  like  the  blare  of  a  trumpet;  and 
they  obeyed  him,  while  the  old  gentleman  wrung 
his  hands  nervously. 

"  Turn  your  trousers  pockets  inside  out,'^  he 
commanded,  and  was  obeyed  again. 

"  I^ow,  boys,"  he  called  excitedly,  "  they 
haven't  any  pistols,  and  we've  got  them  right  where 
we  want  them.  Tom — Jim — Ned — hurrah!  here; 
come  on!  Lars — drive  in;  there's  a  railful  of  brass 
belay ing-pins;  there's  a  rack  of  handspikes;  David, 
remember  your  teeth.  Come  on,  Fred!  Come  on, 
241 


Shipmates 


the  whole  crowd  of  you!     Let  them  know  how  it 
feels.     Give  it  to  them!  " 

An  hour  later,  three  men — scarred,  bleeding, 
and  groaning — stripped  to  remnants  of  undercloth- 
ing, conscious  of  nothing  but  their  terrible  pain, 
were  lowered  into  a  boat  and  landed  at  the  wharf 
of  Bellevue  Hospital,  from  which  institution 
emanated,  in  a  few  days,  certain  official  notifications 
to  the  police  which  resulted  in  certain  ofiicial  in- 
quiries that  were  immediately  hushed. 

A  few  days  later  a  shocked  and  agitated  old 
gentleman  betook  himself  to  the  mountains  to  be 
treated  for  nervous  prostration,  and  in  a  few  months 
a  young  clubman — former  good  fellow,  lately  re- 
turned from  abroad — had  excited  much  gossip  and 
puzzled  comment  among  his  friends  because  of 
his  serious  demeanour,  changed  habits,  and  strict 
attention  to  business. 


242 


AT  THE  END  OF  THE  MAN-ROPE 


Mr.  Arbuckle's  reputation  was  international, 
and  from  the  view-point  of  shipmasters  and  owners 
it  was  good.  Aside  from  slight  mention  of  an  in- 
dependence of  character  which  had  prevented  their 
recommending  him  for  a  command,  captains  with 
whom  he  had  sailed  spoke  well  of  him.  They 
agreed  that  he  knew  his  business.  He  could  ''  lick 
a  crew  into  shape  "  before  the  green  hands  had 
learned  the  ropes.  He  could  get  more  work  out 
of  them  than  could  ordinarily  be  got  out  of  double 
their  number.  He  could  take  a  lofty,  skysail 
yarder — dingy  and  rusty  from  a  long  stay  at  the 
dock — and  with  the  poorest  of  crews  could  have 
her  spick  and  span  as  a  yacht  before  reaching  the 
Horn  or  the  Cape.  In  a  sudden  squall  he  could 
shorten  down  to  top-gallant  sails  before  the  watch 
below  could  reach  the  deck  to  help.  In  short,  he 
was,  as  one  skipper  expressed  it,  ^^  the  two  ends 
and  the  bight  of  a  sailor,"  and,  in  the  opinion  of 
all  of  them,  the  best  chief  mate  out  of  New  York. 
243 


Shipmates 


The  opinion  of  sailors  who  had  signed  under  him 
was  equally  unanimous,  but,  being  unfit  for  publi- 
cation, is  not  given  here.  It  does  not  matter. 
Gossip  of  the  forecastle  and  sailors'  boarding 
house  would  not  have  influenced  Captain  Haskins 
at  this  stage  of  his  development,  even  had  he  heard 
it.  A  secret  and  unsatisfied  yearning  for  higher 
things,  hidden  in  his  soul  since  his  first  voyage  with 
his  father,  would  have  risen  up  to  offset  such 
gossip. 

At  ship-chandlers'  stores,  agents'  and  consuls' 
offices,  and  at  ship-masters'  tables,  he  had  listened 
to  tales  told  by  his  confreres  of  mutinous  crews, 
double-irons  and  bread  and  water,  belaying-pin  and 
handspike  medicine,  powder  and  buckshot  argu- 
ments, and  other  details  incident  to  the  government 
of  big  ships;  and  he,  the  little,  withered,  kindly- 
faced  old  man,  who  had  never  struck  a  blow  or  re- 
ceived one,  who  did  not  need  a  mate  to  keep  his 
men  at  work,  whose  ancient  little  vessel  was  known 
as  the  Sailors'  Home,  would  have  lived  such  expe- 
riences and  told  such  tales.  His  humdrum  life 
palled  upon  him.  Hence  his  secret  yearnings — 
hence  his  delight  when,  looking  for  a  mate  at  Cal- 
lao,  he  was  introduced  by  the  consul  to  Mr.  George 
Arbuckle,  the  crack  chief  officer  of  big  ships,  the 
244 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

dashing,  handsome  six-footer  whose  reputation  was 
so  good,  who  for  twenty  years  had  signed  in  nothing 
smaller  than  2,000  tons  register,  and  who  would 
sign  with  Captain  Haskins  now  only  because  ship- 
wreck had  left  him  penniless,  and  the  consul 
having  procured  him  a  berth,  declined  further 
assistance. 

"  FU  take  the  berth,  captain,"  he  said,  "  and 
be  aboard  in  the  morning;  but  there's  one  thing 
I  stick  out  for.  There's  no  second  mate,  you  say, 
so  I'll  have  more  than  my  share  of  the  work.  What 
I  want  is,  no  interference  between  me  and  the  men. 
I'm  not  used  to  it,  in  the  first  place;  and  then,  I'll 
have  no  time  for  it.  I  don't  believe  in  coddling 
men,  and  if  I  break  one  o'  their  heads — that's  my 
business.  If  I  kill  one  o'  them — that's  my  busi- 
ness too;  but  I'll  expect  my  money  at  quaran- 
tine, as  usual,  and  a  chance  to  skip  before  we  dock." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  stammered  the  little 
captain.  '^  I  understand,  Mr.  Arbuckle.  A  mate 
has  rights  which  a  master  is  bound  to  respect.  I 
leave  things  entirely  to  you — as  far  as  the  work 
goes.  You  know  your  business.  I  heard  of  you 
ten  years  ago.  I  have  six  in  the  forecastle.  A 
little  stirring  up  won't  hurt  'em.  Suit  yourself. 
Stir  'em  up,  if  you  like." 
245 


Shipmates 


So  Mr.  George  Arbuckle  became  mate  of  the 
little  brigantine  Warrior,  loaded  and  cleared  for 
New  York.  On  bis  way  to  tbe  dock  in  the  morning 
lie  stopped  at  the  consulate  to  post  a  letter  home, 
and  listened  to  this  from  the  white-haired  old 
consul : 

^'  I  heard  you  speak  carelessly  of  breaking 
heads  and  killing  men.  You  have  done  this 
before — I  have  heard  of  you — and  will  possibly  do 
it  again;  but,  be  assured,  sir,  on  the  word  of  an 
old  man  who  has  studied  men  and  events,  the  wrong 
we  do  comes  home  to  us  this  side  of  the  grave,  and 
the  men  we  kill  come  back  to  watch  us  die.  Here 
is  a  letter,  just  in  from  the  Frisco  steamer,  for 
one  of  your  crew." 

Mr.  Arbuckle  laughed  at  the  admonition, 
shook  hands  with  the  consul,  pocketed  the  letter, 
and  went  on  board.  When  he  had  changed  his 
clothes  and  reached  the  deck,  he  found  that  Cap- 
tain Haskins  had  mustered  the  crew  at  the 
main-mast. 

"  These  are  my  men,  Mr.  Arbuckle,"  said  the 
captain.  "  Men,  this  is  Mr.  Arbuckle,  who  goes 
home  mate  with  us." 

A  gray-bearded  man,  elderly  but  active,  stepped 
forward  from  the  group,  and  ducking  his  head  with 
246 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

a  conciliatory  grin,  said,  partly  to  the  captain,  partly 
to  the  officer: 

"  I  knew  Mr.  Arbuckle  when  he  was  a  boy,  sir, 
though  I  don't  s'pose  he  'members  me.  I  lived  in 
Tompkinsville  a  while.  He  used  to  chum  wi'  my 
nephew — my  namesake.  My  name's  Martin 
Mathews,  sir." 

Mr.  Arbuckle  made  no  immediate  response. 
He  was  looking  into  each  face  with  a  dispassionate 
stare,  and  only  gave  the  old  sailor  his  share  of  the 
scrutiny.  When  he  had  finished  the  inspection 
he  said  quietly  to  the  crew  as  a  whole: 

"  I've  taken  your  measure.  Now,  let  me  tell 
you  at  the  start — I  expect  when  I  speak  to  a 
man  that  that  man  will  jump — not  walk,  or  run, 
but  jump.  Understand?  Then  we  can  get 
along.  But,  if  he  don't — if  I  have  to  speak 
twice  to  a  man — that  man'U  wish  himself  dead. 
Understand?  My  name's  Arbuckle.  Ever  hear 
o'  me?  My  first  name  is  Mister.  Remember 
that." 

The  men — all  but  the  negro  cook — shifted  their 
feet  uneasily  and  dropped  their  eyes  when  his 
searching  glance  met  theirs.  But  the  cook  re- 
turned his  stare. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Martin,  "  you'll  find  us 
247 


Shipmates 


all  right.     I've  sailed  three  v'yages  wi'  Captain 
Haskins." 

"  Two  and  a  half  too  many.  And  right  here, 
old  man,  let  me  say  to  you:  I've  no  use  for  townies 
aboard  ship.  The  less  you  have  to  say  about  Tomp- 
kinsville,  the  better  for  you.  Go  f orrard,  the  lot 
of  you." 

They  obeyed  him,  with  misgiving  in  their  faces, 
though  Captain  Haskins  smiled  his  delight.  Here 
was  the  right  kind  of  a  mate.  But  for  a  few  days, 
during  which  the  brigantine  put  to  sea,  nothing 
further  occurred  to  further  satisfy  his  yearnings 
or  justify  the  misgivings  of  the  men.  Mr.  Ar- 
buckle  proved  his  efficiency  as  an  officer.  In  navi- 
gation he  was  superior  to  Captain  Haskins,  and  in 
seamanship  above  the  criticism  of  old  Martin,  an 
erudite  forecastle  lawyer.  The  men,  too,  impressed 
by  his  certain  mastery  of  his  profession,  and  zealous 
to  please  an  officer  they  respected,  forestalled  the 
first  beginnings  of  disapproval,  until  Tom,  an  intel- 
ligent young  fellow,  fresh  from  the  navy,  answered 
a  command  with  "  Very  good,  sir,"  instead  of  the 
"  Ay,  ay,  sir "  of  the  merchant  marine.  Obvi- 
ously, no  self-respecting  officer  could  brook  such 
an  oifence;  so  Tom  was  promptly  knocked  down, 
stepped  upon,  kicked  in  the  face  and  instructed. 
248 


Ai  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

"  I  want  none  o'  your  d d  man-o'-war  eti- 
quette here/'  said  the  mate  sternly,  as  the  dazed 
sailor  arose.  "  Answer  me  properly,  or  I'll  cut 
the  liver  out  o' you.  Hear  me?  Come  now,  what 
d'ye  say? " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  stammered  Tom,  too  aston- 
ished, as  well  as  disabled,  to  resent  this  treat- 
ment. He  was  not  cowardly,  but  no  sane  man 
merely  resents  the  assaults  of  a  tiger,  and  Tom 
possessed  the  man-of-war's  man's  respect  for  au- 
thority. 

Jerry,  an  Irishman,  was  next  to  be  disciplined. 
He  spilled  some  tar  on  the  dingy  old  deck,  and  was 
called  down  from  aloft,  collared,  choked,  pressed 
downward,  and  his  nose  rubbed  in  the  sticky  tar; 
then  he  was  reduced  to  aches  and  contusions.  But 
the  national  sense  of  injury  was  strong  in  Jerry, 
and  he  had  never  served  in  the  navy.  He  turned 
on  the  officer  and  fought  him  until  rendered  uncon- 
scious; then  he  was  carried  to  his  bunk  and  nursed 
back  to  life  by  Captain  Haskins,  who  read  him  a 
lecture  on  insubordination,  and  outwardly  approved 
of  his  punishment.  Outwardly,  because  the  mis- 
givings of  the  men  had  reached  to  the  captain, 
and  were  sorely  conflicting  with  his  inward  yearn- 
ings. 

17  249 


shipmates 


Dutch  Ned's  turn  came  next.  A  shift  of  wind 
caught  the  jibs  aback,  and  Ned,  at  the  wheel,  was 
blamed. 

"  I  was  put  der  wheel  hard  up,  sir,"  he  said 
in  answer,  "  but  she  no  steerage  way  have  right 
away,  sir.'' 

"  Dry  up,  you  black-jowled  Ethiopian,"  yelled 
the  angry  Mr.  Arbuckle.  "  Talk  back  to  me,  will 
you?  "  Then — ^it  was  painful — Ned  was  taught 
his  place;  but  when  he  had  learned  it,  he  could 
not  see,  and  another  man  steered  his  trick.  Captain 
Haskins  was  non-committal. 

In  the  freezing  weather  oflf  Cape  Horn,  John, 
a  Swede,  fell  from  the  icy  foretop-gallant  yard, 
struck  the  upper  topsail  yard,  bounded  to  the  lower 
topsail  yard,  and  held  on.  But  he  had  dropped  the 
heaver  which  he  had  taken  aloft,  and  this  fell  per- 
ilously close  to  Mr.  Arbuckle's  head.  Descend- 
ing painfully,  with  broken  ribs  and  bleeding  face, 
his  answers  to  Mr.  Arbuckle  at  the  rail  were  not 
such,  in  coherence  and  respectfulness  of  tone,  as  to 
convince  the  gentleman  of  John's  innocence  in 
dropping  the  heaver  so  close  to  him.  So  John  was 
further  crippled  with  the  heaver,  which  the  mate 
had  secured.  Captain  Haskins  did  what  he  could 
for  the  sufferer,  and  then  reasoned  with  the  mate. 
250 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

His  crew  was  small,  he  said,  and  it  was  unwise  to 
have  more  than  one  man  disabled  at  once.  For, 
though  Dutch  Ned  could  now  see,  Jerry  was  unable 
to  pull  ropes  or  steer. 

This  advice  might  have  prevailed,  for  Mr.  Ar- 
buckle  possessed  a  fairly  logical  mind.  But,  un- 
luckily, he  communed  with  George,  a  weak-minded, 
lanky  youth  of  the  crew,  whom  he  called  aft  to 
keep  him  company  on  a  clear  moonlight  night.  He 
asked  the  young  man  about  his  history,  his  plans, 
hopes,  and  prospects,  and  the  flattered  weakling  re- 
sponded. He  was  a  member  of  the  Salvation 
Army, he  said — ^not  a  sailor;  and  he  had  signed  with 
Captain  Haskins  at  the  behest  of  his  superiors  as 
a  practical  means  of  saving  souls;  for  sailors  ashore 
were  hard  to  reach,  and  the  army  had  few  converts 
among  them.  But  he  had  achieved  little  with  this 
crew — the  spirit  of  the  Lord  was  not  with  them. 
They  were  irreverent,  profane,  and  revengeful,  in 
spite  of  his  prayers  and  exhortations.  And  this  led 
to  the  object  of  the  interview. 

^^  Revengeful  ?  "  repeated  the  mate.  "What 
about?     Are  they  after  me?  " 

"  Well,  no,  sir;  not  that.  But  they  say  spiteful 
things.'' 

"About  me?  What  do  they  say?  Tell  me, 
251 


Shipmates 


boy.  I've  been  your  friend.  I  saw  at  the  start 
that  you  were  different  from  that  crowd." 

"  It's  not  all  of  them,  sir/'  said  the  fatuous 
youth.  "  But  Martin  says  that  you  practically 
murdered  your  wife  and  child  years  ago.  Oh,  I 
don't  believe  it,  sir.  I  don't,  really."  The  mate's 
face  was  frightful  in  the  moonlight. 

^^What — ^how — how  did  he  put  it?"  he  said 
in  a  choking  voice. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  Mr.  Arbuckle.  He  said 
that  you  beat  her  cruelly  when  at  home,  and  when 
you  left  on  a  voyage  she  took  the  child  to  IN'ew 
York  and  tried  to  make  a  living,  but  they  both 
starved  to  death." 

"  Go  forrard,"  said  the  mate  calmly,  "  and  send 
that  old  liar  aft." 

George  disappeared  and  Martin  came. 

"  I'll  teach  you,  you  old  crow-bait,"  he  said, 
"  to  set  the  men  against  me.  Killed  my  wife  and 
child,  did  I?  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  the  less  you 
knew  about  Tompkinsville  the  better  for  you? " 

''  Mr.  Arbuckle,"  answered  the  old  man, 
bravely,  "  what  I've  said  in  the  fo'castle  I'll  say 
to  your  face;  and  I've  a  right  to  say  what  the  whole 
town  knows.  I  knew  you  as  a  boy,  and  I  knew 
your  wife  as  a  pretty  little  girl,  and  if  the  account 
252 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

is  true,  you  are  responsible.  I  never  saw  the  baby, 
but  my  folks  did,  and  read  the  letter  she  sent  just 
before  they  both  died  of  starvation." 

The  old  man  fell  under  the  fist  blow  which 
followed,  and  when  the  infuriated  officer  had  fin- 
ished stamping  upon  him,  he,  too,  was  carried  to  his 
bunk.  And  Captain  Haskins  became  alarmed;  his 
secret  ideals  had  been  realized. 

"  You  stop  this  right  here,  Mr.  Arbuckle,"  he 
said.  "  I  forbid  you  killing  and  maiming  my  crew. 
If  you  strike  another  of  my  men,  I'll  put  you  'fore 
the  mast.     I  will,  by  the  Eternal." 

Which  was  as  near  as  Captain  Haskins  ever 
came  to  profanity. 

But  the  mate  was  not  himself;  he  answered 
warmly — in  fact,  threatened  to  break  Captain 
Haskins's  head  if  he  violated  his  agreement  to  not 
interfere  between  him  and  the  men,  and  for  a 
few  days  was  practically  master  of  the  vessel — a 
terror  to  all.  Then  an  incident  brought  him 
around. 

The  Salvationist,  useless  on  deck,  and  spared  by 
the  mate  only  because  of  his  value  as  a  spy,  was  a 
splendid  entertainer  in  the  watch  below,  possessing 
a  clear,  bell-like  tenor  voice.  Usually  he  sang  the 
sacred  words  and  jingling  tunes  of  the  Salvation 
253 


shipmates 


Armjj  but  on  this  evening  he  treated  them  to  a 
pathetic  song  of  the  war  days.  It  began  softly  at 
first,  nothing  distinguishable  but  the  melody,  then 
rising  until  the  words  of  the  refrain  could  be  heard 
from  the  poop. 

**  No  more  the  bugle  calls  the  weary  one. 
Rest,  noble  spirit,  in  thy  grave  unknown. 
I'll  find  you  and  know  you  among  the  good  and  true, 
When  a  robe  of  white  is  given  for  the  faded  coat  of  blue." 

Mr.  Arbuckle  was  heard  to  utter  a  sound  be- 
tween a  gasp  and  a  groan;  then  he  ran  forward, 
entered  the  forecastle,  pulled  the  singer  from  his 
bunk,  and  expressed  himself: 

"  Shut  up — shut  up,  you  snivelling,  caterwaul- 
ing insect!  Don't  let  me  hear  any  more  of  this." 
And  he  shook  the  unlucky  George  until  his  breath- 
ing was  difficult. 

"  Don't  you  want  us  to  sing  in  the  last  dog- 
watch below,  sir? "  asked  Tom,  standing  up. 

"  No,"  yelled  the  mate.  Then,  reminded  by 
their  faces  that  the  edict  was  revolutionary,  he 
added:  "Not  such  songs  as  this.  They're  played 
out  years  ago.  Sing  something  decent — lively. 
Hear  me? "  he  said  to  the  cowering  George. 
"  Sing  something  lively,  if  you  want  to  sing;  and 

don't  sing  so  d d  loud." 

254 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

"  Yes,  sir — all  right,  sir — ay,  ay,  sir,"  an- 
swered George,  and  the  mate  went  aft. 

He  walked  the  deck  until  midnight,  and  for  an 
hour  into  his  watch  below;  then  approached  the 
captain. 

"  Mustn't  think,  sir,"  he  said,  halting,  "  that 
I'm  trying  to  kill  the  men.  I'm  not;  but  they 
aggravate  me.  There's  not  an  able  seaman 
aboard." 

"  That  is  a  matter  of  opinion,  Mr.  Arbuckle,'^ 
answered  the  captain,  coldly.  ''  Even  so,  able  sea- 
men are  not  really  necessary  in  a  little  craft  like 
this.  Human  beings  are — and  require  human 
treatment.  And,  what's  wrong  with  that  boy? 
He's  got  a  good  voice.  I  like  to  hear  him  sing; 
and  he's  the  one  man,  besides  the  cook,  that  you 
haven't  maltreated.     I  thought  you  liked  him." 

"  Like  him — the  snivelling,  psalm-singin' 
sneak?  I've  pumped  him  dry  about  the  rest,  and 
they  put  him  up  to  sing  that  song.  I  know  it.  It's 
the  old  fellow.  Have  you  heard  what  he's  saying 
'bout  me?" 

''  About  your  wife  and  child?     Yes.     Martin 

told  me  when  I  bandaged  him.     That  is  not  my 

business.    But  I  shouldn't  think  a  mere  song  could 

disturb  you,  Mr.  Arbuckle.     I  know  the  song — 

255 


Shipmates 


Faded  Coat  of  Blue.  It'll  draw  tears  from  a  stone, 
but  not  from  bucko  mates — as  a  general  thing." 

''  But  I've  got  feelings,  captain,  same  as  any 
man.  And  that's  a  song  she  taught  the  child — 
used  to  sing  it  together,  the  young  un  sittin'  in  her 
lap,  and  me  smokin'  and  listenin'.     'Tisn't  on  her 

account.    To  h 1  with  her.    She  quit  me  when  I 

was  at  sea.  But  she  took  the  boy — my  boy.  She 
took  my  boy  away,  and  he  died." 

"  Of  starvation?  " 

''  ISTo,"  and  the  mate's  voice  was  hoarse.      '^  I 

won't  have  it  that  way.    She  lied.    D n  her,  she 

lied.  Starvation — my  boy — not  that.  He  got 
sick,  maybe,  and  she  didn't  take  care  of  him." 

"Why  did  she  quit  you?"  asked  the  captain, 
for  lack  of  something  to  say. 

"Why, captain, she  was  one  of  these  high-toned 
pieces — too  good  for  this  world — parson's  daugh- 
ter; and  when  her  old  dad  died  she  was  d d 

glad  to  marry  me  to  get  something  to  eat.  But 
she  objected  to  everything  I  did,  and  said  I  wasn't 
good  enough  for  her — and  when  I  gave  her  a  few 
bats  in  the  nose  she  objected  still  more.  I  had  to 
take  this — at  school  and  at  sea.  So  does  every 
man.     Why  should  a  woman  be  exempt?     But  she 

quit  me,  d n  her,  and  took  my  boy." 

256 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

"  Well/'  said  the  captain,  slowly,  "  if  that  is 
your  code,  we  can  not  discuss  it.  You  are  too  old 
to  be  changed.  I'll  simply  say,  Mr.  Arbuckle,  that 
I  am  master  here  under  the  law.  I  forbid  you  to 
strike  another  man  aboard  my  vessel.  You  are  big 
enough  to  thrash  all  hands,  but  I  know  the  law, 
and  will  prosecute  you,  with  my  men  for  wit- 
nesses." 

The  mate  went  to  his  bunk.  He  may,  or  may 
not,  have  been  impressed  by  the  captain's  threat. 
He  certainly  was  by  an  interview  with  the  cook, 
which  occurred  a  few  mornings  later.  So  far  there 
had  been  no  friction  between  these  two,  the  most 
important  factors  in  the  economy  of  a  ship  at  sea. 
But  the  watch  on  deck  being  a  little  dilatory  in 
drinking  their  morning  coffee,  Mr.  Arbuckle  ap- 
peared at  the  galley  door  loudly  commanding  that 
the  cook  stop  the  morning  coffee  until  further 
orders.  The  cook  came  to  the  door  with  a  ten-inch 
carving  knife.  "  Look  heah,"  he  said,  with  spark- 
ling eyes,  *'  I  know  you — you  no-'count  white 
man.  My  father  used  to  go  into  the  forest  an'  kill 
gorillas  like  you  'fore  the  traders  got  him.  I  was  a 
slave  'til  I  was  big  'nough  to  run  away.  Then  I 
killed  an  overseer  like  you.  Now  I'm  an  Ameri- 
can. You  heah  me?  I'm  an  American.  I  signed 
257 


shipmates 


heah  to  cook  for  all  hands  an'  give  'em  coffee 
at  turn-to.  I'm  goin'  to  do  it.  I  sharpened  this 
knife  the  day  you  joined,  an'  I've  kep'  it  sharp. 
If  you  run  foul  o'  me,  I'll  cut  you  into  little  bits. 
You  heah  me? " 

The  officer  heard,  and  understood.  He  went 
aft  for  a  revolver,  and  the  cook  followed  to  the  cabin 
door  with  the  knife,  and  met  him  when  he  appeared. 
But  the  pistol  did  not  leave  his  pocket.  The  cook 
was  as  large  a  man  as  himself,  and  there  was  an 
earnest  look  in  his  sparkling  eyes  that  dominated 
other  influences.  So  the  day's  work  began  with- 
out disturbance. 

From  this  on,  though  he  carried  his  revolver 
ostentatiously  for  the  cook's  benefit,  and  cursed  the 
men  explosively  night  and  day,  he  obeyed  Captain 
Haskins's  injunction,  and  until  the  last  day  of  the 
passage  he  struck  no  man.  But  in  the  case  of 
George,  no  longer  exempt,  the  vocal  abuse  had  the 
effect  of  reducing  him  to  a  state  of  chronic  terror, 
which  found  expression  in  a  willingness  to  betray 
to  Mr.  Arbuckle  all  that  was  said  in  the  forecastle, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  favour  with  him.  The  mate 
would  listen,  of  course,  and  abate  none  of  his  con- 
tempt for  the  informer,  while  the  crew,  easily  sur- 
mising the  object  of  the  nightly  discourse  at  the 
258 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

weather  main  rigging,  made  life  a  burden  to  him  in 
the  watch  below.  Never  too  wholesome  in  his  atti- 
tude toward  his  fellow-men,  George  yielded  to  the 
pressure,  and  became  an  illogical,  irresponsible  ani- 
mal; never  too  cleanly  in  his  personal  habits,  he  be- 
came on  offence  to  the  eye  and  nostril.  And  this 
induced  the  mate  to  apply  heroic  treatment.  He 
dowsed  him  with  buckets  of  water  in  the  morning 
washing  down  of  the  deck,  and  this  not  availing,  he 
collared  him  one  dark  night  when  he  had  crept  aft 
with  a  new  tale,  marched  him  to  the  taffrail,  and, 
in  spite  of  his  screams,  tied  him  to  the  end  of  the 
main-sheet  and  lowered  him  over  the  stern,  slack- 
ing away  until  the  poor  wretch  was  immersed  to 
his  waist. 

Occasionally  a  lifting  sea  would  bury  him, 
smothering  his  cries;  then,  as  the  stern  arose,  he 
would  dangle,  dripping  and  gasping,  from  the  up- 
right rope  until  another  sea  came  to  overwhelm 
him.  Mr.  Arbuckle  watched  from  the  taffrail,  and 
might  have  pulled  him  in  after  he  was  presumably 
cleaner;  but  a  sudden  squall  and  shift  of  wind  re- 
quired his  attention  and  the  work  of  the  watch  be- 
low for  two  hours,  during  which  George  remained 
overboard,  forgotten  by  all  but  the  man  at  the 
wheel.  At  last  this  man — it  was  Martin,  barely 
269 


Shipmates 


recovered  from  his  beating — informed  Mr.  Ar- 
buekle  that  if  he  did  not  hoist  George  aboard  he 
would  becket  the  wheel  and  call  the  captain,  which 
induced  the  officer  to  curse  Martin  luridly,  but,  as 
a  secondary  consideration,  to  rescue  the  involun- 
tary bather. 

George  would  not  talk  when  he  was  pulled  in. 
He  smiled  voluminously  in  the  light  from  the  bin- 
nacle and  muttered  incoherently,  but  would  not 
talk  in  spite  of  the  stern  command  of  the  mate  to 
tell  how  he  felt  and  to  state  his  future  intentions 
with  regard  to  soap  and  water.  They  led  him  for- 
ward, where  his  horrified  shipmates  stripped  and 
put  him  in  his  bunk  to  drivel  himself  into  the  sleep 
of  utter  exhaustion  and  idiocy.  He  awakened 
twelve  hours  later,  and,  though  he  still  gibbered 
when  spoken  to — often  repeating  the  words  of  the 
speaker — he  showed  no  sign  of  brain,  mind,  or  soul 
behind  the  words.  They  found  that  he  could  pull  a 
rope  if  put  in  his  hands,  and  would  belay  when  told. 
He  could  not  be  trusted  at  the  wheel,  but  learned 
to  express  himself  on  seeing  a  light,  and  became 
available  on  the  lookout.  If  properly  watched  he 
could  paint,  tar  down  rigging,  sweep  and  scrub  the 
deck,  but  could  do  no  work  requiring  the  intelli- 
gence of  a  pack  mule.  Yet,  in  spite  of  the  embargo 
260 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

on  his  tongue,  lie  could  sing  the  songs  he  had 
known  in  a  soft,  plaintive  voice,  which  moved  these 
rough  men  to  tears ;  and  in  spite  of  the  terrible  ex- 
perience that  had  wrecked  his  mind  he  displayed  no 
more  fear  of  Mr.  Arbuckle;  he  never  avoided  him, 
but  would  smile  into  his  face  with  the  innocent 
candour  of  a  babe. 

What  Mr.  Arbuckle  thought  of  his  handiwork 
found  no  expression  in  his  manner  or  discourse. 
He  was  still  the  strict,  arbitrary,  profane  critic  of 
the  crew  that  he  was  before.  What  Captain  Has- 
kins  thought  could  be  surmised  by  the  fact  that  he 
spoke  no  more  to  his  mate,  and  entered  the  incident 
in  his  official  log.  The  men  were  less  guarded; 
boldly  announcing  their  intention  to  throw  him 
overboard  if  he  went  much  further,  and  warning 
Mr.  Arbuckle  in  any  event  to  be  prepared  for  legal 
proceedings  on  shore — which  did  not  in  the  least 
affect  the  officer  at  the  time,  this  being  the  last 
gossip  given  him  by  George  on  the  night  of  his 
ducking. 

It  was  when  the  anchor  was  dropped  off  Tomp- 
kinsville,  Staten  Island,  that  he  broke  out  again, 
to  wind  up  the  passage  with  a  proper  assertion  of 
his  dignity.  A  slight  mistake  on  the  part  of  one 
of  them  in  paying  out  chain,  and  the  smiling  ap- 
261 


shipmates 


proval  of  the  mistake  in  the  faces  of  the  rest,  in- 
duced him  to  lay  about  him  with  a  handspike,  and 
when  he  had  finished,  three  only  of  the  crew — 
Tom,  Martin,  and  George — could  stand  erect. 
Even  the  cook  was  disabled.  When  he  left  his  gal- 
ley to  join  the  row,  he  was  met,  not  by  a  pistol  shot 
— simply  by  the  swinging  handspike,  and  the  hand 
that  held  that  sharp  carving  knife  was  crushed. 

Canvas  had  been  furled  while  towing  up  the 
bay,  so  when  the  pilot  had  been  put  ashore  in  the 
dingey,  the  work  of  the  day  was  done,  and  all  hands 
went  to  a  late  supper — served  one-handed  by  the 
cook.  When  he  had  cleared  off  the  dishes  from  the 
cabin  table,  and  gone  forward,  Mr.  Arbuckle,  cour- 
ageous and  confident  from  his  recent  victory,  re- 
minded the  captain  of  his  pre-expressed  desire  to 
be  paid  off  before  docking. 

"  You  want  your  pay,  do  you?  '^  asked  the  in- 
dignant little  captain,  heatedly.  "  You  want  to 
quit  me  now  to  escape  arrest,  and  leave  me  to  dock 
this  vessel  with  three  men.  You'll  get  your  money 
to-morrow,  and  you'll  get  it  in  the  presence  of  the 
policeman  who  arrests  you." 

The  argument  and  quarrel  which  followed  need 
not  be  detailed.  It  ended  in  a  crashing  blow  of  the 
six-foot  officer's  fist  on  the  temple  of  the  five-foot 
262 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

captain.  The  little  man  reeled,  sat  down  on  a  stool, 
slid  off,  and  stretched  himself  on  the  floor  with  the 
deliberation  of  a  man  preparing  for  sleep,  while 
Mr.  Arbuckle,  breathing  loudly  and  deeply,  looked 
down  on  him  with  angry  eyes.  But,  as  he  looked, 
the  anger  left  his  eyes,  and  his  breathing,  though 
still  loud  and  deep,  changed  its  character.  He  ex- 
amined the  captain's  head.  There  was  no  outward 
sign  of  injury,  and  he  felt  for  a  movement  of  the 
heart.  The  breast  was  warm,  but  as  rigid  as  the 
face  with  its  staring  eyes.  He  stood  up,  then  sat 
down  on  the  stool,  and  looked  at  the  man  he  had 
killed. 

He  had  bargained  to  receive  his  money  and 
discharge  before  docking  if  he  killed  a  man  on 
the  passage.  Here  was  the  dead  man;  where  was 
the  money? 

He  procured  keys  from  the  captain's  pocket, 
lighted  the  lamp  in  his  room,  searched  his  desk  and 
found,  not  only  money  enough  to  pay  off  all  hands, 
but  the  account  of  wages  due  each  man  up  to  the 
end  of  the  following  day,  and  their  discharges, 
signed  by  Captain  Haskins,  his  own  stating  that 
as  mate  he  was  Y.  G.  (very  good).  He  counted 
out  the  money  due  him,  signed  his  name  to  the 
account,  pocketed  the  money  and  discharge,  and 
263 


Shipmates 


locked  the  desk.  As  far  as  tlie  world  was  concerned 
he  was  officially  paid  off  as  mate  of  the  Warrior. 
Then,  lifting  the  corpse  to  the  bed  in  the  room,  he 
turned  down  the  lamp  and  sought  the  deck. 

It  was  a  dark,  wintry  evening,  with  cold  rain 
and  a  colder  wind  out  of  the  north,  which  froze 
the  rain  as  it  fell.  Deck,  rail,  and  rigging  were 
already  coated  with  ice,  and  overboard  large  cakes 
of  it,  fragments  of  the  Hudson  Eiver  pack,  were 
floating  in  on  the  swift  flood-tide.  The  vessel  was 
alone  at  the  anchorage,  moored  beyond  easy  hailing 
distance  from  the  shore,  and  all  lights  were  turned 
out  forward  except  the  riding  light  in  the  fore  rig- 
ging. The  stooped  figure  of  Martin,  standing  the 
first  anchor  watch,  showed  dimly  in  the  darkness 
at  the  forecastle  door,  but  the  rest  of  the  stricken 
men  were  undoubtedly  in  their  bunks.  It  was  an 
ideal  night  for  murder  and  its  concomitants;  but, 
cold  as  it  was,  Mr.  Arbuckle  perspired  profusely. 
He  climbed  the  poop  steps  and  looked  over  the 
stem,  where  the  dingey,  tugging  at  its  painter, 
bobbed  and  rocked  on  the  black  water  below.  Long 
and  silently  he  mused,  and  often  mopped  his  brow 
wdth  his  handkerchief;  then  his  musings  found  ex- 
pression. 

"  Won't  do,"  he  muttered.  "  Doctors  would 
264 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

know  he  didn't  drown.  Adrift  in  the  dingey,  may 
be — no  oars — frozen  to  death?  But  I  need  the 
boat  for  an  alibi.  Frozen  to  death — how?  Falls 
overboard — floats  long  enough  to  freeze.  Good — 
a  life-buoy!  Some  one  throws  it.  Who?  I  must 
be  ashore.  One  o'  the  men — the  idiot.  He  could 
throw  it,  and  do  no  more.  I  must  come  out  just 
in  time  to  hear  cries  for  help,  climb  overboard,  miss 
the   skipper,  find  the  life-buoy  gone,   and   raise 

h 1.     Idiot  on  anchor  watch.     When  is  he  on 

watch?     But  I  can  arrange  that." 

He  removed  a  life-buoy  from  the  quarter-rail, 
entered  the  cabin  by  the  after  companionway,  and 
drew  the  cork  ring  over  the  head  and  shoulders  of 
the  body,  twisting  the  still  pliable  arms  and  fingers 
around  it  to  hold  it  in  place.  N^ext  he  carried  the 
body  up  and  rested  it  against  the  taflfrail  until  he 
had  assured  himself  that  Martin  was  still  forward. 
Then  he  carefully  lowered  it  over  the  stern,  shifting 
his  hold  to  the  hair,  and  reaching  down  until  the 
feet  touched  the  water  before  letting  go.  There 
was  hardly  a  splash;  the  life-buoy  was  forced  up 
snug  under  the  arms,  and  the  body,  shoulders  out, 
floated  away  on  the  tide.  No  intelligent  coroner 
would  pronounce  this  a  case  of  murder. 

Mr.  Arbuckle  descended  to  his  room,  where  he 
18  265 


shipmates 


changed  his  clothes,  putting  on  the  suit  he  had  worn 
at  Callao.  As  he  donned  the  coat  he  felt  of  a  letter 
in  the  pocket — the  letter  given  him  by  the  consul, 
and  which  he  had  forgotten  to  deliver.  He  read 
the  address,  ^^  Martin  Mathews,  brigantine  Warrior, 
Callao,  Peru,  care  American  Consul."  He  no 
longer  perspired  so  profusely,  but  trembled  from 
the  reaction  of  feeling  which  followed  the  safe 
disposal  of  the  body.  A  glass  of  spirits  from  the 
captain's  stock  remedied  this,  and,  going  on  deck, 
he  bawled  out  in  his  most  officer-like  tone:  ^^  Who's 
on  watch?  Lay  aft  here."  Martin  obeyed,  and 
met  him  at  the  main-mast. 

''  Here's  a  letter  I  got  from  the  consul  at  Callao 
— for  you.     Forgot  all  about  it." 

^^  Thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Martin,  as  he  took 
the  letter.  "  I  'spect  it's  from  my  sister  inshore 
here.  Curious,  sir,  that  I  come  back  to  Tompkins- 
ville  to  read  it." 

^^I^ever  mind  about  Tompkinsville.  Who 
stands  watch  to-night?" 

"  Only  three  of  us,  sir.  We  'greed  to  let  the 
rest  have  all  night  in.  Tom  relieves  me  at  'leven, 
and  George  relieves  him  at  three.  I  came  on  at 
eight,  sir,  as  you  ordered  at  supper  time." 

'^  That's  all  right.  Let  George  come  on  at 
266 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

eleven,  and  let  Tom  take  the  morning  watch.  The 
harbour's  quiet  at  midnight,  and  river  thieves 
work  late.  Let  Tom  take  the  last  watch.  Under- 
stand?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     I'll  call  George  at  'leven." 

"  And  keep  your  watch  on  the  poop.  Pass  the 
word  along.  Make  that  idiot  understand — to  stand 
watch  on  the  poop.  But  don't  disturb  the  captain. 
He's  sick.  If  he  feels  better  I  may  go  ashore  in 
the  dingey." 

"  All  right,  sir.  May  I  read  my  letter  f orrard, 
sir? " 

"  Go  ahead — get  it  off  your  mind." 

Martin  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the  fore- 
castle, and  when  Mr.  Arbuckle  saw  him  emerge  a 
little  later  he  went  below. 

"  Got  to  make  sure,"  he  said.  "  Got  to  have 
the  idiot  on  deck,  and  I  can't  disturb  the  watches 
any  more.  Make  'em  suspicious.  I'll  wait  till 
'leven  o'clock — when  the  skipper  feels  better." 

He  waited,  passing  the  time  as  he  could,  and 
when  the  cabin  clock  struck  eleven  went  on  deck, 
first  fortifying  himself  with  a  glass  of  whisky. 
George  and  Martin  were  coming  aft,  the  older  man 
earnestly  explaining  the  orders  to  the  younger. 
Mr.  Arbuckle,  fully  as  earnestly,  repeated  them, 
267 


Shipmates 


enjoining  George  to  stand  watch  on  the  poop,  and 
to  not  disturb  Captain  Haskins,  who  was  feeling 
better. 

"  And  I'm  going  ashore,"  he  said  to  Martin. 
"  Be  back  about  midnight.  'Fore  you  turn  in 
bring  the  dingey  up  to  the  gangway.'' 

Martin  answered  respectfully,  and  obeyed  him, 
while  the  smiling  idiot  watched  the  operation. 
Then  Mr.  Arbuckle  descended  the  side  ladder, 
slacking  himself  carefully  down  by  the  man-ropes. 
These  were  two  short,  fancifully  covered  ropes, 
leading  from  brass  stanchions  in  the  rail,  one  each 
side  of  the  ladder,  to  within  a  foot  of  the  water. 
They  were  covered  with  ice  and  hard  to  hold,  yet 
he  paused  halfway  down  to  repeat  the  command 
to  ''  stand  watch  on  the  poop." 

^'  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  old  sailor,  as  he 
climbed  the  rail  with  a  pump-brake  in  his  hand. 
"  The  boy'll  do  that  all  right,  but  I  want  to  say 
something  first.  You're  going,  George  Arbuckle. 
You've  got  your  money  and  discharge,  and  this 
is  the  last  we'll  see  o'  you.  I  know  the  trick. 
You're  not  takin'  your  clothes,  'cause  you  have 
none  worth  takin'.  "We'll  have  to  wait  three  days 
'fore  we  get  our  money,  and  then  we  can't  find  you. 
You'll  lay  low  and  ship  a^ain  to  cripple  more  men. 
2f^8 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

But  I've  got  this  to  say — and,  you  chew  it  over, 
too — you  just  remember  that  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  tellin'  you.  Hold  on,  there!  "  (Mr.  Arbuckle 
had  moved  his  hands  upward.)  "  Don't  you  come 
up,  or  you'll  go  down  by  the  run.  I'll  brain  you, 
you  devil,  if  you  climb  that  ladder.  You  stay  there 
and  listen.  You've  pretty  near  killed  this  crew. 
You've  hammered  and  clubbed  us  to  the  last  man, 
and  one  of  us  you  drove  insane — this  boy  here. 
Look  at  him,  you  brute !  He's  your  own  son.  Do 
you  hear?  Your  own  son — the  little  boy — that 
we  all  thought  died  o'  starvation.  He  didn't  die — 
nor  the  mother,  either,  at  the  time.  She  came  back 
to  Tompkinsville  since  this  brig  sailed  from  New 
York,  and  she  died  here  eight  months  ago.  She 
fooled  you.  The  letter  I  got  tells  of  it.  And  the 
boy  was  a  Salvation  Army  man,  and  shipped  in 
this  vessel.  She  told  that,  but  she  didn't  know  that 
he  was  to  meet  his  father  and  be  driven  insane. 
Look  at  your  work,  you  hell-hound !  Look  at  your 
work!  "  And  the  old  man  pointed  at  the  smiling 
idiot. 

Mr.  Arbuckle  descended  quickly.     The  ropes 

and  steps  were  very  slippery,  but  this  may  not  have 

been  the  reason  of  his  hurry.    The  demented  youth 

looked  down  and  gibbered.     The  man  in  the  boat 

269 


Shipmates 


said  nothing.  When  Martin  cast  olBf  the  painter, 
he  shipped  the  oars  and  pulled  shoreward. 

He  was  not  back  at  midnight;  he  came  at  one 
o'clock,  when  the  ebb-tide  had  gathered  force,  and 
the  vessel  was  tailing  down  the  harbour  with  the 
side  ladder  on  the  offshore  side.  He  hailed  as  he 
approached,  but  the  anchor  watch,  looking  down 
from  the  poop  rail,  did  not  answer  the  order  to  take 
the  painter,  so  he  pulled  to  the  steps  and  essayed 
to  climb  them  with  the  painter  in  his  hand.  But 
steps  and  man-ropes  were  still  icy.  He  slipped, 
scrambled,  lost  the  painter,  and  as  the  boat  floated 
sternward,  found  himself  in  the  water,  holding  on 
to  the  end  of  the  after  man-rope,  with  the  side 
ladder  tantalizingly  close,  but  not  within  reach. 

The  tide  was  strong  and  held  him  away  from 
the  ladder.  The  water  was  icy  cold,  and  his  teeth 
chattered.  Uttering  an  angry  curse,  he  pulled  him- 
self up — high  as  his  strength  would  enable  him — 
and  with  less  of  his  body  immersed,  he  swung 
toward  the  ladder;  but  strong  man  though  he  was, 
he  could  not  support  so  much  of  his  weight  and 
that  of  his  water-soaked  clothing  with  one  hand, 
even  to  catch  the  ladder  with  the  other.  "With  fin- 
ger nails  scraping  the  coveted  steps,  he  slid  down 
the  rope,  and  barely  held  on  at  the  end.  Again 
270 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

and  again  he  tried,  only  to  fatigue  himself  in 
failure. 

"  On  deck,  there !  "  he  called  at  last.  "  George, 
gi'  me  a  hand  here!  George!  On  deck!  Hear 
me?     Gi'  me  a  hand!  " 

George  heard,  but  remained  on  the  poop  rail, 
silently  observing  him. 

"George!"  he  called.  "Come  down  to  the 
gangway.  Stand  watch  at  the  gangway  now! 
Hear  me?  And  send  me  down  a  bowline — a  run- 
ning bowline.  Understand?  Make  a  running 
bowline  'round  the  after  man-rope,  and  slip  it 
down  to  me.    Don't  you  hear  me,  George?  " 

Had  there  been  more  of  command  in  the  tone 
of  his  voice  George  might  have  obeyed,  in  a  man- 
ner.    But  he  spoke  pleadingly. 

"  On  'deck,  there !  "  he  called  again,  raising  his 
voice.  "  Forward  there.  Turn  out,  somebody, 
and  gi'  me  a  hand.  Man  overboard!  Man  over- 
board!    Any  one  hear  me?     Help!     Help!  " 

The  idiot  above  chuckled  and  repeated  the  call 
softly:  "  Man  overboard!     Man  overboard!  " 

"  George,  my  boy,"  he  begged,  "  help  me  up. 
Call  the  men.  No,  call  Tom — don't  bother  Mar- 
tin. Go  forrard  and  call  Tom — that's  a  good 
boy." 

271 


shipmates 


''  Good  boy!  Good  boy!  Good  boy!  "  was  re- 
peated to  him. 

"  Yes,  George,  you  are.  But  help  me.  I'm 
your  father,  George.  I  just  learned.  Under- 
stand? Your  father.  I  didn't  know  it  before. 
Ifeither  did  you.  I  thought  you  died  when  you 
were  little;  but  you  didn't  die.  And  now  I'm 
going  to  stand  by  you,  George,  if  you'll  help  me. 
I'm  your  father." 

''  Fadder  —  f  adder  —  f  adder  —  f adder,"  came 
back  to  him.  Then,  perhaps  because  he  had  just 
heard  repetitions  of  Martin's  denunciatory  words, 
he  chattered,  "  Diden  die — diden  die — diden — 
diden  die — you  devil — you  devil,  devil,  devil, 
devil^ — brute,  you  brute,  you  brute.  Look  at  your 
work,  work,  work — look  at  your  work — diden  die, 
diden  die,  diden  die — "  and  it  merged  into  inco- 
herent drivel. 

The  man  in  the  water  groaned  hoarsely,  and, 
with  eyes  bulging  and  veins  in  his  hands,  neck,  and 
temples  standing  out  like  cording,  he  strained  his 
muscles  and  scraped  the  side  with  the  edges  of  his 
shoe  soles  in  a  mighty  effort  of  strength.  Then 
came  the  penalty  of  overworking  chilled  muscles; 
he  slid  down,  panting  hoarsely,  and  groaned:  "  Fm 
cramped.  I've  got  the  cramps.  Help!  '^ 
272 


At  the  End  of  the  Man-rope 

His  voice  was  weak  now,  and  he  saved  it;  but, 
while  he  rested,  both  hands  gripping  the  rope  over 
his  head,  the  gibberish  above  changed  to  this — the 
clear,  bell-like  voice  echoing  on  the  shore: 

**  My  brave  lad  he  sleeps  in  his  faded  coat  of  blue, 
In  a  lonely  grave  unknown  lies  the  heart  that  beat  so  true. 
He  sank  faint  and  hungry  among  the  famished  brave, 
And  they  laid  him   sad  and  lonely  within  his  nameless 
grave." 

"  O  God,  have  mercy  on  my  soul !  "  muttered 
the  man,  as  the  singer  ended  the  verse.  His  eyes 
were  closed  now,  and  while  the  boy  above  hummed 
the  melody  softly,  he  repeated  to  himself  the  words 
of  the  consul  at  Callao: 

"  The  wrong  we  do  comes  home  to  us  this  side 
of  the  grave,  and  the  men  we  kill  come  back  to 
watch  us  die." 

Something  brushed  him,  and  he  opened  his  eyes. 
Within  a  foot  of  his  face  was  the  head  and  torso 
of  a  man  supported  by  a  life-buoy.  The  staring 
eyes  looked  into  his  own.  With  a  gasp  and  a 
gurgle,  he  let  go  of  the  rope,  barely  clutched 
the  life-buoy,  and  the  two  went  out  to  sea  together. 


273 


A  FALL  FROM  GRACE 


Yank  Tate  was  a  single-minded  jack-of -all- 
trades — short,  square-bearded,  open-eyed,  and  as 
honest  as  a  human  being  may  be.  In  spite  of  his 
versatility  he  was  a  master  seaman  and  mechanic, 
and,  helped  by  his  single-mindedness,  faithful  devo- 
tee of  an  ideal  which  had  come  to  him  in  child- 
hood and  clung  to  him  through  the  years.  It  had 
taken  him  in  early  manhood  from  carpenter  and 
joiner's  work  to  a  shipyard  at  less  pay.  It  had 
impelled  him  to  go  to  sea  in  the  first  carpenter's 
berth  that  offered.  It  had  dominated  all  influences 
that  shaped  his  wanderings,  and  finally,  after  years 
of  experience  as  a  football  of  Fate,  it  had  brought 
him  to  Eastern  waters — the  nursery  of  pirates — 
and  left  him  stranded  "  on  the  beach  "  at  Manila, 
from  which  he  had  been  rescued  by  the  Eeverend 
Mr.  Todd,  missionary,  who  recognised  good  mate- 
rial. Mr.  Todd  laboured  and  wrestled  with  his 
soul,  vainly,  until  Yank  learned  that  he  needed 
a  mate  in  his  little  missionary  brig,  whereat  both 
275 


shipmates 


made  concessions.  Yank  got  a  berth  and  acknowl- 
edged himself  saved,  provided  that  Mr.  Todd  would 
consider  the  agitation  closed  and  not  expect  him 
to  pray  in  his  watch  below.  And  the  missionary 
agreed.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  secret,  unsullied 
ambition  hidden  in  Yank's  honest  heart  to  become  a 
roaring,  bloody-minded,  walk-the-plank,  skuU-and- 
crossbones  buccaneer;  so  the  watch  below  was  given 
up  to  sleep  and  secular  thought,  and  Yank's  chances 
for  backsliding  were  a  hundred  per  cent  better. 

But  thus  far  he  had  met  no  pirates,  unless 
the  nondescript  craft  coming  out  of  the  west  pro- 
pelled by  sweeps  was  of  this  nature. 

Mr.  Todd  was  palpably  anxious.  Sweltering 
through  six  days  of  dead  calm,  with  tar  oozing 
from  ropes  and  pitch  from  deck  seams,  while  the 
barometer  dropped  steadily  to  28.56 — sure  sign  of 
a  typhoon — was  troubling  enough  without  this  ad- 
ditional menace.  Below  in  his  desk  was  the  ac- 
cumulation of  seven  years'  innocent  trading  with 
the  innocent  islanders — about  ten  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  little  iridescent  globules  much  valued 
in  jewellery  manufacture — which  he  had  taken  in 
exchange  for  Bibles,  knives,  trinkets,  etc.,  from 
different  converts  on  the  islands  of  his  route.  And 
here  he  was  in  piratical  seas  with  a  small  crew  of 
276 


A  Fall  from    Grace 


non-combative  Kanakas  in  his  forecastle,  and  only 
one  white  man  to  help  him. 

He  was  as  good  a  seaman  as  Yank  and  a  better 
navigator;  yet  he  could  not  classify  the  approach- 
ing vessel.  She  had  the  hull  of  a  Chinese  junk, 
the  mainsail  and  gaff  topsail  of  a  schooner,  and  a 
lateen  foresail  slung  to  a  heavy  yard,  while  out 
over  the  bows  was  a  cocky  stump  bowsprit  and  old- 
fashioned  sprit-sail  yard  with  sail  attached — clearly 
a  hybrid  of  the  high  seas,  a  makeshift  of  hard 
times;  and  as  she  slopped  her  way  along,  her  sails 
flapped  ludicrously  with  the  draught  of  her  motion. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Yank,  handing  the  glass  to  his 
superior,  his  brown  eyes  glistening,  "  she's  a  pi- 
rate. Ten  sweeps  and  two  ports  to  a  side?  Big 
crew." 

"  Let's  hope  not,"  answered  Mr.  Todd,  gravely. 
"  But  if  so,  let  us  hope  that  the  other  one  is  a 
war  vessel." 

Half  a  mile  to  the  southward,  and  extending 
east  and  west  about  four  miles  each  way,  was  the 
northern  face  of  an  atoll,  or  coral  reef,  inclosing 
a  lagoon.  Within  this  lagoon  was  anchored  the 
other  craft  mentioned — a  large,  black  and  rakish 
brig,  whose  sparkling  guns  and  generally  stylish 
appearance  suggested  government  ownership. 
277 


shipmates 


Though  they  had  flown  their  own  flag  that  morn- 
ing as  a  slow  current  drifted  them  around  the 
atoll,  the  signal  was  not  answered,  and  none  of 
her  crew  was  visible.  Close  study  with  the  glass 
had  shown  them  a  thickening  of  the  reef  on  the 
south  side,  where  the  debris  of  the  sea  had  formed 
land,  and  here  were  a  few  stunted  palms  and  three 
or  four  tents.  The  same  scrutiny  had  disclosed 
an  opening  in  the  reef  on  the  east,  and  another 
on  the  north  side.  Had  there  been  wind,  Mr. 
Todd  would  have  entered  for  further  acquaintance. 
As  it  was,  with  a  typhoon  coming,  the  atoll  was  a 
place  of  danger,  and  he  wondered  why  the  brig 
did  not  warp  out.  Early  in  the  morning  he  had 
sent  down  upper  spars  and  stowed  all  canvas  except 
a  storm  spanker  and  foretopmast-staysail,  and 
now,  with  nothing  to  do  but  to  watch  the  approach 
of  the  suspect  to  the  westward,  he  improved  the 
time  by  hiding  his  treasure  and  other  valuables, 
and  destroying  his  account  book. 

But  to  no  avail,  for  the  first  remark  of  a  vil- 
lainous-looking swashbuckler  who  climbed  over 
his  rail  an  hour  later  was: 

"  Been  a-lookin'  f er  you.  Hand  ober  them 
pearls." 

He  was  a  giant  mulatto,  with  bloodshot  eyes, 
278 


A  Fall  from    Grace 


fang-like  teeth,  and  a  settled  grin  on  a  face  further 
distorted  by  every  evil  thought  and  passion.  He 
was  followed  by  a  crew  of  about  thirty — cutthroats 
all — as  nondescript  as  their  craft  bumping  along- 
side. They  were  of  every  breed  of  men---black, 
white,  and  yellow;  they  were  dressed  fantastically, 
each  to  suit  himself,  but  were  armed  alike,  with 
short  cutlass  and  heavy  pistols.  They  crowded  the 
wondering  Kanakas  forward  while  their  leader  in- 
terviewed Mr.  Todd  and  his  mate. 

"Pearls,  Mr.  Todd,''  he  repeated.  "Hand 
ober  dem  pearls.'' 

"What  pearls?" 

"  E'o  time  to  hear  you  lie,"  he  said.  "  Hear 
all  about  you  and  your  pile.  Come  aft  here,  four 
hands,"  he  called  to  his  men. 

Four  came.  They  seemed  to  know  what  was 
wanted.  Quickly  and  silently  they  seized  Mr. 
Todd,  throttled  his  angry  protest,  bore  him  to  the 
deck,  and  bound  him;  then  fastening  the  end  of 
the  main-staysail  halyards  to  his  ankles,  they 
hauled  on  the  other  part  and  swayed  him  up,  feet 
first,  until  his  fingers  cleared  the  deck.  He  writhed 
and  struggled  to  lift  his  head — successfully;  but 
they  fastened  his  wrists  to  the  life  rail,  bowsed 
him  higher,  and  belayed.  Yank  Tate  watched 
279 


Shipmates 


'  in  fascinated  horroij  and  the  pirate  lighted  a 
cheroot. 

''  When  you're  ready  to  tell,  I'll  lower  you/' 
he  said  quietly. 

The  unfortunate  missionary  groaned,  and  cried 
unto  Heaven  for  help;  then  he  appealed  to  Yank, 
then  to  his  crew,  huddled  near  the  windlass,  lastly 
to  the  pirate  captain. 

"Mercy!"  he  gurgled.  "Yes,  yes.  Take 
them." 

Flesh  and  blood  could  haye  stood  it  no  longer. 
He  was  black  in  the  face  when  they  stretched  him 
out  on  the  deck,  and  for  five  minutes  was  uncon- 
scious; then  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"Where?"  asked  the  pirate,  bending  over 
him. 

Mr.  Todd  did  not  answer. 

"  Up  wid  him  again,"  ordered  the  mulatto,  and 
they  manned  the  rope;  but  Mr.  Todd  lifted  his 
hand. 

"  Under  the  cabin,"  he  whispered  hoarsely — 
"  starboard  side — near  the  deadwood — loose  plank." 

"  Good." 

The  captain  descended  the  main  hatch  and  re- 
turned in  a  few  minutes  with  a  canvas  ditty-bag 
that  bulged  with  its  contents.  His  mood  had 
280 


A   Fall  from    Grace 


changed;  he  laughed  and  waved  the  bag  over  the 
head  of  the  still  prostrate  missionary. 

"  All  in  the  sabing  o'  souls/'  he  chuckled.  ^^  All 
fo'  de  glory  o'  God.  Now,  I  tell  you/'  he  added, 
more  seriously,  "  you  go  right  'long  an'  git  some 
more.  I  wait  for  'em.  I  let  you  keep  this  little 
rotten  ol'  brig — good  'nough  to  sabe  de  heathen 
wid — no  good  to  me — too  small.  But— how  much 
money  you  got  down  in  yo'  desk? " 

Mr.  Todd  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet  and  an- 
swered brokenly:  ^^  I  have  a  very  little — not  a 
week's  pay  for  my  crew.  I  have  provisions,  yams, 
cereals,  salt  meat,  preserved  goods,  coffee.  Take 
what  you  please — kill  us  if  you  like — but,  I  enjoin 
you,  in  the  name  of  an  outraged  God,  not  to  tor- 
ture us." 

The  pirate's  face  sobered  to  its  sneering  grin. 
He  pointed  to  his  craft  alongside. 

"  See  dat  vessel?  What  you  call  her  rig? 
Once  she  was  a  mandarin  junk — sixty  men.  Dey 
all  walk  de  plank.  See  dat  mainsail?  Dat  belong 
to  down-east  Yankee  trader.  Cappen  an'  six  men 
— all  yo'  countrymen.  I  hang  'em  all  up  to  dat 
gaff  'fore  I  cut  de  mast  out  fo'  myself.  See  dat 
fo'sail?  Arab  dhow.  Dey  all  roast.  Wha'  you 
whinin'  'bout?  You's  de  goose  dat  lays  de  egg. 
19  281 


shipmates 


Dat's  why  I  let  you  go.  You  keep  yo'  money. 
You  keep  yo'  brig  an'  you  men,  an'  you  grub. 
Sometime  I  ketch  you  again  and  git  mo'  pearls." 

"Monster!"  said  Mr.  Todd.  "And  do  you 
think  that  I  shall  be  a  party  to  such  a  compact? 
Fool!  Kill  me  at  once,  and  your  chance  of  con- 
tinuing your  infamous  career  is  better." 

"Wha'youdo?" 

"  Do  you  think,"  went  on  the  enraged  mis- 
sionary, now  in  command  of  his  voice  and  vo- 
cabulary, "  that  you  have  robbed  a  weakling — a 
man  who  will  rest  content?  You  have  taken  my 
all.  It  is  mine — gained  by  honest  barter.  There 
are  men-of-war  in  these  seas.  I  have  influence.  I 
will  see  you  hanged." 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  pirate  chief  seemed 
to  be  thinking  deeply;  then  he  said  to  his  men: 

"  Put  it  'roun'  his  neck,  run  him  up  to  de 
masthead  and  slack  him  down." 

Mr.  Todd  was  not  bound — he  was  simply  held 
tightly  in  the  clutches  of  three  while  the  fourth 
knotted  a  hangman's  noose  in  the  end  of  the  hal- 
yards, and  adjusted  the  knot  under  his  ear.  He 
struggled  and  fought,  crying  out  inarticulately, 
until  the  men  forward  lifted  him  clear  of  the 
deck;  then  up  he  went,  wriggling  and  twisting, 
282 


A  Fail  from    Grace 


his  long  coat-tails  and  longer  legs  thrashing  out  at 
right  angles  to  his  line  of  ascent  and  his  hands 
gripping  the  rope  over  his  head.  This  saved  him. 
Had  he  been  bound  he  would  have  strangled.  As 
he  went  up  to  the  block  aloft,  Yank  Tate,  wonder 
and  doubt,  shock  and  horror,  intermingled  in  his 
open  countenance,  stepped  up  to  the  captain. 

"  Hadn't  oughter  do  this,  cap'n,"  he  said,  ar- 
gumentativelj  and  almost  pleadingly.  "  There's 
a  man-o'-war  in  yonder.  She  can  see;  she'll  know, 
and  she'll  foUer  you." 

"  Wha — who "  yelled  the  pirate,  hilari- 
ously. "  Bill  Swarth — a  man-o'-war.  Yah-yah, 
he'll  see;  he'll  know — but  he  won't  f oiler.  Hey, 
dere,"  he  called  forward,  for  Mr.  Todd  was  chock-a- 
block — "  slack  him  down — slack  down  de  golden 
goose." 

Yank  drew  back,  and  Mr.  Todd  came  down. 
He  lay  on  the  deck  for  a  time,  as  before;  then, 
assisted  by  Yank,  arose  to  his  feet  and  clung  to  the 
life  rail,  his  breath  coming  and  going  in  wheezing 
groans,  while  his  dark  eyes  sparkled  luridly. 

"  Now,"  said  the  mulatto,  in  a  quiet  voice, 

''  when  you  see  me  hanged  you'll  know  how  it 

feels,  and  'joy  it  much  better.     I'm  goin'  now. 

I  won't  report  you  to  any  'Merican  consuls  roun' 

283 


Shipmates 


here,  'cause  you  might  be  called  home  to  tell  why 
you  swindle  natives  in  yo'  missionary  brig.  So 
you  jess  go  'long  an'  git  mo'  pearls  fo'  me.  An', 
say  " — he  pointed  to  the  atoll — "  don't  make  no 
complaints  to  dat  man-o'-war  in  dar,  or  you'll  lose 
de  money  I  lef '  you,  an'  you'  brig.  An'  you  need 
'em  in  yo'  business." 

Mr.  Todd,  his  solemn  face  working  convul- 
sively, and  his  long  frame  swaying  as  he  rested 
his  weight  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other, 
gave  voice  to  short  speech,  which  in  his  honest 
anger  was  a  prayer — a  supplication — a  calling  down 
of  the  wrath  of  Omnipotence  on  the  head  of  the 
despoiler,  but  outwardly,  with  regard  to  its  terse- 
ness, explosiveness,  and  commonplaceness  of  ex- 
pression, it  was  an  oath,  nothing  else — a  plain  im- 
precation— and  it  moved  the  pirate  to  tears — of 
laughter. 

"  Yah-yah,"  he  yelled,  hilariously,  while  he 
danced  back  and  forth,  swinging  the  bag  of  pearls. 
"  Yah — ho-ho —  I  better  go  sabe  souls  myself. 
I  cuss  most  as  good  as  dat  myself."  Then  he 
sobered  suddenly,  and  ordering  his  crew  back  to 
their  craft,  followed  them,  singing  loudly  with 
mock  earnestness: 

*' '  There  is  work  for  us  all  in  de  vineyard  of  de  Lord ' " 

284 


A  Fall  from    Grace 


He  sang  only  this  much.  Mr.  Todd,  with 
fingers  in  his  ears,  had  turned  his  back  and  was 
moving  aft,  which  gave  Yank  Tate  the  opportunity 
of  his  life.  He  followed  the  pirate  chief  and 
caught  him  at  the  rail,  interrupting  the  song. 

"Got  all  hands,  cappen?"  he  said  quickly. 
"  Want  a  good  hand — a  carpenter?  " 

For  answer  he  was  knocked  prone  upon  his 
back  by  a  blow  of  the  huge  mulatto's  fist;  and 
while  lying  there,  too  dazed  to  rise,  and  with  his 
pulpy  nose  spouting  streams  of  blood,  listened  to 
this: 

"  1^0,  you  no-account  hypocrite — you  robber 
of  natives  and  obtainer  of  money  under  false  pre- 
tences— I  don't  want  you  in  my  ship.  I'm  p'ticu- 
lar  who  I  'sociate  with." 

The  pirate  climbed  over  the  rail,  ordering 
fastenings  cast  off  and  sweeps  manned.  When  ten 
yards  separated  the  two  craft  Yank  arose,  disfig- 
ured, chagrined,  and  as  angry  as  was  possible  for 
him  to  be  with  a  fellow  creature. 

"  You  come  back  here,  you  half -cooked  moke ! " 
he  yelled,  shaking  his  fist.  "  Come  back  here  an^ 
fight  it  out.  I  kin  lick  you,  big  as  you  are.  Come 
back, you  nigger — you  nigger — you  damn  nigger!" 

A  derisive  laugh  rang  out,  and  the  strange 
285 


shipmates 


craft  swung  around  the  brig's  bow,  making  back 
to  the  west.  Yank  drew  a  bucket  of  water, 
swabbed  his  swollen  features,  and  went  aft,  where 
Mr.  Todd  was  leaning  moodily  against  the  rail. 

"  What  happened  ? "  asked  the  missionary. 
"Why  did  he  strike  you?" 

"  Well — just  this,"  answered  Yank,  in  some 
confusion,  not  knowing  how  to  explain;  then  de- 
ciding that  an  out-and-out  lie  was  best,  he  said: 
"  Went  up  to  him  an'  told  him  that  he  was 
wrong,  an'  wicked,  an' — an'  such  like — an'  told 
him  we'd  pray  fur  him.  But  he  didn't  agree  to 
it,  an'  plugged  me." 

"  You  were  wrong  yourself,  if  not  wicked.  !N^o 
prayer  will  avail  with  him.  He  is  a  type.  I  am 
an  instrument  of  the  vengeance  of  the  Lord.  I 
feel  that  I  have  been  chosen — perhaps  you  also- 
I  feel  that  the  Lord  will  decree,  having  sorely  tried 
us,  that  we  are  to  meet  that  man  again." 

"  Mebbe.  I  kin  lick  the  stuffin'  out  o'  any 
damn  Ethiopian,  stand  up  an'  knock  down,  that 
ever  stole  a  chicken,  if  he'll  only " 

"  Hush.  When  will  you  reform  your  vocabu- 
lary? Go  forward;  send  three  hands  aft  to  the 
spanker,  and  stand  by  the  foretopmast-staysail 
sheets.  There  is  wind  coming.  While  you  are 
286 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


waiting,  get  all  the  small  chain  on  deck  and  over- 
haul as  much  forward  of  the  windlass  as  you  can. 
We  may  have  to  use  it — though  I  doubt  that  we 
can  club-haul  against  a  reef  rising  out  of  the 
deep  sea." 

Yank  answered  and  obeyed.  And  the  events 
of  the  next  twenty-four  hours  followed  in  such 
quick  succession  that  he  was  spared  further  pain 
of  chagrin  and  disappointment.  The  typhoon 
came  down  upon  them  with  a  preliminary  dark- 
ness to  the  north,  followed  by  a  deluge  of  rain. 
Then  came  wind — gentle  at  first,  which  enabled 
them  to  cast  the  brig  on  the  port  tack  with  small 
steerage  way — then  a  succession  of  furious  blasts, 
the  second  of  which  ripped  the  storm  spanker  to 
ribbons,  then  a  steady,  screaming  pressure  which 
bore  men  against  the  lee  rail  and  flattened  the 
ground-swell  of  the  sea  to  a  milk-white  froth.  Even 
with  the  helm  hard  down  the  brig  would  not  steer, 
but  paid  off  toward  the  atoll.  And  Mr.  Todd 
knew  that  with  the  staysail  furled  to  balance  the 
loss  of  the  spanker,  the  brig  would  only  drift  bodily 
toward  the  jagged  reef  to  leeward.  As  there  was 
not  a  sail  on  board  half  as  strong  as  the  lost 
spanker,  and  as  the  staysail  might  go  at  any  mo- 
ment, he  decided  that  there  was  but  one  thing  to 
287 


Shipmates 


do — scud,  on  the  only  track  open,  through  the 
northern  inlet  of  the  reef  to  a  dubious  anchor- 
age, or  to  a  further  journey  through  the  eastern 
inlet  to  sea  room  and  safety. 

He  took  the  wheel  himself — with  the  Kanaka 
helmsman  to  leeward  to  help  him — and  put  it  up, 
roaring  orders  to  Yank  regarding  ground  tackle. 
The  brig  paid  off,  straightened  to  an  even  keel, 
and  rolling  slightly,  more  froni  uneven  wind  pres- 
sure than  from  the  action  of  the  sea,  charged  down 
toward  the  nest  of  coral. 

A  quarter  mile  away  on  all  sides  sea  and  sky 
were  merged  in  the  cloud  of  spindrift  that  rose  from 
the  froth,  and  beyond  this  was  the  reef.  But 
he  was  a  wise  man,  this  Mr.  Todd,  and  he  had 
taken  the  bearings  of  the  inlet  while  there  was 
still  time.  He  steered  a  compass  course,  and  soon 
distinguished  the  shadowy,  loftier  outlines  of  the 
reef  to  starboard  and  port  on  the  flat  sea  ahead  of 
him,  and  knew  that  he  was  right.  With  a  mo- 
ment's time  now  to  look  around  he  saw,  off  on  the 
starboard  quarter,  the  pirate  ship,  dismasted,  broad- 
side to  the  wind,  and  surely  doomed.  Then  the 
smudge  shut  her  out,  and  Mr.  Todd  steered  on, 
with  a  grim  smile  on  his  face;  for  he  was  but 
human,  and  human  beings  lately  triced  up  by  the 
288 


A  Fail  from  Grace 


heels,  hanged  by  the  neck,  tod  despoiled  are  apt 
to  forget  the  golden  rule  and  its  corollaries. 

The  little  brig  whizzed  through  the  inlet  into 
water  no  calmer  than  the  flat  turmoil  without,  but 
lacking,  in  a  measure,  the  overlying  cloud  of 
spume;  and  Mr.  Todd  saw,  in  a  hurried  look  to 
starboard,  the  big  brig  close  up  to  the  reef,  with 
cables,  taut  as  iron  bars,  made  fast  to  projections 
of  coral.  .The  sight  decided  him.  The  brig's 
commander  would  never  have  made  fast  to  the 
reef  had  he  not  distrusted  the  holding  ground  be- 
neath, and  with  a  shout  to  Yank  Tate  to  come 
aft,  he  shifted  the  wheel  and  steered  roughly  for 
the  eastern  inlet.     Yank  appeared. 

''  Ifever  mind  the  anchors,"  shouted  Mr.  Todd 
in  his  ear.  "  Eig  a  tarpaulin  in  the  port  main 
rigging  to  help  steer.  I'm  making  for  the  east 
inlet." 

Yank  attended  to  this  and  Mr.  Todd  soon 
picked  up  the  opening  to  the  southeast.  To  allow 
for  leeway  he  steered  a  full  point  higher  than  the 
inlet's  direction,  and  the  staysail  gave  the  little 
brig  good  headway,  with  the  square  of  canvas  aft 
to  balance  it.  All  might  have  gone  well  had  not 
a  gun  boomed  out  aboard  the  large  armed  brig 
hanging  to  the  reef  and  a  solid  shot  plunged  into 
289 


Shipmates 


the  main-mast  six  feet  below  the  hounds.  There 
was  no  sail  on  the  mast  except  the  tarpaulin  in 
the  rigging;  but  in  that  furious  pressure  of  wind 
no  mast  weakened  in  this  manner  could  stand. 
The  top-gallant  mast  was  on  deck,  but  the  top-mast 
and  upper  part  of  the  lower  mast  sagged  forward, 
slowly  and  steadily;  lanyards  stretched  like  rubber 
strings,  then  snapped,  and  down  came  the  fabric 
amid  the  roars  of  Mr.  Todd  and  Yank  to  "  Lay 
aft,  for  your  lives.''  It  crashed  on  the  lee  rail, 
balanced  a  moment,  and  rolled  overboard;  then, 
held  by  the  still  intact  mainstay,  it  drifted  to  the 
quarter — an  embarrassing  drag,  which  pulled  the 
brig's  head  off  before  the  wind,  against  the  wheel, 
which  was  hard  down. 

The  crew,  though  frightened,  were  unhurt. 
With  axes  and  knives  they  slashed  at  rigging  until 
the  wreck  went  astern,  then  they  set  a  double  fore- 
spencer — an  alleged  storm-sail  forward  correspond- 
ing to  the  spanker  aft.  But  in  spite  of  its  age 
and  weakness  it  held  together,  and  the  brig  sped 
toward  the  inlet,  rushed  through  at  ten  knots,  and 
squared  away  dead  before  the  wind,  for  at  least 
a  ten-hour  scud,  as  there  was  no  heaving-to  with 
all  after-sail  gone.  Mr.  Todd  plotted  his  track, 
and  when  the  wind  moderated  rigged  a  jury  main- 
?90 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


mast  and  sail  of  his  maintop-gallant  gear;  then, 
with  short  head  sail,  beat  back  to  the  atoll  with  two 
dominating  speculations  in  his  mind — as  to  whether 
his  pearls  were  above  water  or  below,  and  as  to 
why  he  had  been  fired  at — arriving  three  days 
later;  by  which  time  Yank's  sore  nose  was  healed 
and  his  spirits  recovered. 

They  noted  the  white  tents  on  the  southern 
edge  of  the  atoll  as  they  skirted  it,  and  well  over 
to  the  eastward — as  far  as  where  the  reef  broke  up 
into  the  maze  of  fragments  through  which  ran  the 
deep  east  channel — were  moving  specks,  men,  un- 
doubtedly, in  red  shirts,  who  seemed  to  be  waving 
caps.  High  and  dry  near  the  north  inlet,  unkempt 
and  forlorn,  was  the  junk-like  hull  of  the  pirate 
ship;  but  there  was  no  sign  of  the  large  brig, 
within  or  without.  They  sailed  around  until 
abreast  of  the  wreck ;  then,  with  main  yards  backed, 
the  brig  drifted.  Leaving  Yank  in  charge,  Mr. 
Todd  lowered  a  boat  and  visited  the  wreck,  confi- 
dent that  it  was  deserted. 

He  was  right;  it  was  not  only  empty  of  living 
creatures,  but  stripped  and  gutted  of  everything 
inanimate  that  was  movable.  There  was  not  even 
ballast  in  the  hold;  the  cabin  and  forecastle  were 
void  of  furniture  and  clothing.  The  sails  and  gear 
291 


shipmates 


had,  of  course,  gone  with  the  masts,  but  guns  and 
carriages,  deck  blocks,  pump-brakes,  handspikes, 
belaying-pins,  and  all  ropes,  lines,  and  running  gear 
had  been  removed  by  men.  The  dingy  brown  hull 
was  a  shell,  and  though  he  searched  high  and  low, 
Mr.  Todd  found  no  trace  of  his  pearls.  He  re- 
turned to  his  little  brig  with  gloomy  face. 

"  Bothered  'bout  somethin'  in  yonder,"  said 
Yank  as  he  climbed  the  rail.  "  Makin'  a  big 
smoke."  He  pointed  south,  toward  the  thickened 
part  of  the  atoll,  where  black  smoke  soared  sky- 
ward. 

"  We'll  go  in,"  answered  his  chief,  determin- 
edly, after  a  look  through  the  glass.  ''  I  am  not 
yet  sure  of  my  duty,  or  of  what  is  required  of 
me;  but  they  are  evidently  in  trouble — perhaps 
hungry — and  possibly  open  to  terms." 

They  swung  the  yards  and  sailed  in,  across  the 
lagoon  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  beach, 
where,  after  first  satisfying  himself  that  the  shout- 
ing men  on  the  strip  of  coral  had  no  boats,  Mr. 
Todd  dropped  anchor  and  sculled  in  with  his 
dingey,  stopping  at  a  safe  distance. 

"  Come  in,"  yelled  a  tall,  black-eyed,  sun- 
burned man  with  big  mustache,  who  seemed  to  be 
the  leader.  "  Come  in.  We're  all  right — only 
292 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


-d  hungry  and  thirsty/'    Then  the  rest — hol- 


lowed-eyed  and  gaunt — voiced  the  invitation  in 
unmistakable  sincerity.  They  were  armed,  to  the 
last  man,  with  long  knives,  and  were  dressed  in 
red  shirts  and  caps;  but  they  were  not  the  men 
who  had  boarded  the  brig. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Mr.  Todd.  "Why 
are  you  here?  You  are  armed;  I  am  not,  and 
have  lately  suffered  from  it.  Explain  who  you 
are.'' 

"  Come  in.  We're  all  right.  We're  harmless. 
Here — look."  The  leader  tossed  his  long  knife 
toward  Mr.  Todd.     It  sank  in  two  fathoms. 

"  Disarm  —  every  man  Jack  of  you,"  he 
shouted,  and  a  shower  of  knives  fell  around 
the  boat. 

"  Now,  come  in.  We're  marooned  to  starve — 
that's  all  that  ails  us.     We  belong  to  the  brig  that 

shot    away    your    main-mast.      D d    sorry — 

thought  it  was  Chink.  Had  an  old  war  with  him, 
and  never  thought  he'd  let  any  one  get  away  from 
him.     So  we  let  go  at  you." 

"You  mean,"  queried  Mr.  Todd,  "that  you 
fired  on  what  you  supposed  to  be  a  pirate  crew 
who  had  first  disposed  of  myself  and  men?" 

"  Yes — that's  it.  We  knew  his  old  tub — we 
293 


Shipmates 


knew  Chink;  and  he  never  spared  any  one  be- 
fore. Thought  he'd  taken  your  brig  for  him- 
self/' 

"  And  why  are  you  here?  " 

"  We  came  in  to  mend  our  rudder,  and  had 
to  stay  through  the  blow.  "We  got  boats  out,  took 
Chink  and  his  gang  off  the  reef,  just  in  time  to 
save  'em  alive,  and  afterward  found  his  main-mast 
and  towed  it  in  here — over  yonder,  with  the  guns 
and  dunnage."  The  leader  pointed  up  the  beach. 
"  We  were  going  to  help  him  refit,  and  stripped  his 
craft  to  launch  her,  but  he  put  up  a  job  on  us 
when  our  rudder  was  fixed;  got  all  hands  ashore 
here  but  my  mate,  then  rushed  for  the  boats — the 
lot  of  them — put  off  to  the  brig,  killed  the  mate 
as  we  watched  'em,  and  went  to  sea.  We're  sup- 
posed to  starve,  while  he  gets  away  with  my  brig 
and  your  pearls.  He  told  me  about  his  haul,  and 
I  saw  the  bag." 

Mr.  Todd  turned  and  hailed  Yank,  ordering 
him  to  strike  out  a  barrel  of  bread  and  a  cask  of 
water.  Then  he  sculled  out  to  receive  them,  and 
when  Yank  had  lowered  them  into  the  dingey,  he 
invited  him  to  come  ashore. 

"  We  have  nothing  to  fear  from  these  men," 
he  said.  "  They  are  pirates  beyond  doubt — but  pi- 
294 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


rates  with  a  grievance  equal  to  ours.  Like  us,  they 
are  instruments.     We  can  aid  each  other." 

Which  partly  explains  Mr.  Todd's  later  ac- 
quiescence to  a  questionable  scheme  propounded 
by  Captain  Swarth  at  a  conference  in  one  of  the 
tents — the  dominant  reason  being  the  enthusiastic 
approval  of  the  single-minded  Yank  Tate.  The 
scheme  was,  to  temporarily  change  the  missionary 
brig  to  a  pirate  brigantine  by  substituting  Chink's 
main-mast  with  its  still  intact  mainsail  and  gaff  top- 
sail for  the  jury  rig;  and  thus  disguised,  to  sail  in 
pursuit  of  Chink,  whom  Captain  Swarth  vowed  he 
could  find,  and  recover  by  law  of  might  the  brig- 
and the  pearls.  Yank  stipulated  ghoulishly  that 
in  return  for  his  services  as  carpenter  in  masting 
the  brig,  he  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  prodding 
Chink  along  the  plank  when  he  walked  it,  and 
Mr.  Todd  stipulated  that  he  be  not  involved  in 
conflict  or  contact  with  either  side,  receiving  his 
pearls  merely  for  the  loan  of  his  brig.  Captain 
Swarth  promised,  and  Mr.  Todd  chided  Yank  on 
his  bloodthirstiness. 

"  You  are  ever  a  backslider,"  he  said  sternly. 
"  What  will  be  your  future  when  you  no  longer 
have  me  to  guide  and  advise? " 

"  Don't  know,"  answered  Yank,  calmly,  as  he 
295 


Shipmates 


bit  off  a  chew  of  forbidden  tobacco.  "  It's  the 
least  of  my  troubles;  and  this  good-for-evil  business 
don't  always  work.  I  gave  him  good — promised 
to  pray  for  him,  and  he  gave  me  evil — plugged  me 
in  the  nose.  An'  then,  you  know,  I'm  an  in- 
strument." 

Mr.  Todd  sighed  and  turned  away,  realizing 
that  Yank's  independence  came  only  of  a  prospec- 
tive berth  with  Captain  Swarth,  who  had  taken 
a  strong  fancy  to  him.  He  was  certainly  a  valuable 
man  to  any  skipper.  He  dressed  down  and  short- 
ened the  junk's  main-mast  to  suitable  dimensions 
for  use  in  the  brig,  and  finding  a  split  in  the  lower 
end,  he  constructed  a  forge  and  shrunk  an  iron 
band  or  two  around  it;  he  invented  a  coral  paint, 
to  whiten  the  black  brig,  of  coral  powder  and 
boiled  oil  from  Mr.  Todd's  paint  locker,  fashioning 
the  mill  for  pulverizing  coral  with  two  grindstones 
and  a  couple  of  pump-brakes.  He  was  cheery,  in- 
dustrious, and  enthusiastic,  loving  work  and  his 
fellow  men,  and  limited  only  by  his  unseemly  am- 
bition to  burn,  sink,  and  destroy. 

Mr.  Todd  had  a  hold  full  of  provisions  intended 

for  distribution  and  sale  at  the  islands  on  his  route, 

80  there  was  no  lack  of  food  for  these  forty  men, 

though  the  water-supply  was  low.     A  kitchen  was 

296 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


set  up  on  shore,  and  the  bewildered  Kanakas  im- 
pressed into  the  service  of  Swarth's  cook,  but  they 
were  of  little  use.  There  being  no  carpenter  in 
the  pirate  crew,  Yank  was  appointed  foreman  of 
construction,  Mr.  Todd  and  Captain  Swarth  became 
consulting  engineers,  and  the  crew — rascals  all,  but 
white  men  and  able  seamen — were  to  carry  on  the 
work,  which  they  did,  first  diving  up  their  long 
knives. 

Sheers  rose  on  the  brig's  deck  and  the  reduced 
main-mast  was  stepped ;  rigging  was  cut  out  and  set 
up;  the  top-mast  was  sent  up  and  equipped;  then, 
when  some  sail-making  was  done,  the  brig  had  be- 
come a  brigantine — square-rigged  forward,  schoon- 
er-rigged aft.  Through  it  all  Yank  Tate  looked 
for  orders  less  and  less  to  Mr.  Todd,  and  more  and 
more  to  Captain  Swarth — yet,  from  no  lack  of  re- 
spect for  Mr.  Todd's  seamanship,  which  was  of  a 
quality  that  impressed  even  the  pirate  chief — a 
skilled  specialist — to  the  point  of  asking  how  he, 
a  mere  missionary,  had  become  so  familiar  with 
nautical  technique. 

"  Observation,"  answered  Mr.  Todd,  "  and  a 
few  voyages  before  the  Lord  called  me." 

"  Um — ^humph!  Sure  you  were  called?  Men 
like  you  are  scarce  aboard  ship.  Sure  you  were 
20  297 


shipmates 


not  called  to  the  quarter-deck?  I  knew  by  the 
way  you  handled  your  craft  in  the  typhoon  that 
you  were  one  in  a  hundred — in  fact,  I  thought 
you  were  Chink — and  he's  a  whole  seaman.  And 
yet  Chink  got  dismasted.  Well,  I  want  a  mate 
and  quartermaster.  Square  it  with  yourself,  and 
the  berth's  yours  at  any  time.'' 

But  Mr.  Todd  sadly  and  firmly  declined. 

"  I  feel,"  he  said,  "  that  I  am  entitled  to  my 
little  worldly  store  against  the  chances  of  old  age, 
but  not  to  begin  a  career  of  violence  and  revenge 
— though  the  world  has  used  me  badly,  I  admit." 

"  Suppose  we  can't  recover  your  pearls? " 

But  the  missionary  sighed,  and  refused  to  dis- 
cuss it. 

They  took  Chink's  four  carronades,  even  though 
the  powder  was  wet,  and  cut  ports  in  the  bulwarks 
against  Mr.  Todd's  protest.  It  was  done  for  its 
moral  influence  on  the  missionary,  and  Yank  voted 
with  Swarth.  A  few  coats  of  white  paint  without, 
and  bunks  for  forty  men  within,  completed  the 
little  craft's  degradation,  and  she  put  to  sea  with. 
Swarth  in  command,  Yank  Tate  in  his  old  berth 
— mate  and  carpenter — and  her  quondam  com- 
mander, the  earnest  and  forceful  Mr.  Todd,  a 
quiescent  and  non-combative  passenger. 
298 


A  Fail  from  Grace 


Swarth  headed  for  Pauna  Lo  island  for  water 
and  traces  of  Chink,  and  obtained  both.  A  wild- 
eyed  man  came  off  in  the  boat  and  told  of  his 
being  marooned  by  Chink  for  a  small  disagreement, 
and  of  Chink's  announced  intention  to  ravage  the 
China  seas  with  his  fine  new  ten-gun  brig — "  fit 
to  thrash  a  man-of-war/' 

The  man  was  shipped  and  the  brig  sailed 
west,  leaving  behind  six  Kanaka  deserters,  who, 
no  doubt,  could  live  and  die  happily  on  this  well- 
stocked,  well-watered  island.  But  Mr.  Todd, 
on  hearing  this,  voiced  gently  a  sad  suspicion 
that  Captain  Swarth  and  the  recreant  Yank  had 
compounded  the  desertion  —  which  may,  or 
may  not,  have  been  true.  Yank  was  too 
supremely  happy  to  deny  anything  criminal  and 
disgraceful. 

There  were  sure  signs  of  Chink  here  and  there 
in  the  China  Sea — wreckage,  drifting  boats  holding 
dead  men,  and  an  occasional  smouldering  and  dere- 
lict hull ;  but  they  had  cruised  three  months  before, 
early  one  morning,  hove  to  in  a  howling  gale  off 
the  southern  end  of  Formosa;  they  sighted  a  craft, 
hull  down  in  the  west,  which  Swarth  knew  for  his 
brig.  She  was  on  the  starboard  tack,  under  double- 
reefed  topsails,  spanker  and  foretopmast-staysail, 
299 


Shipmates 


and,  the  wind  being  out  of  the  east,  lay  almost 
directly  to  leeward. 

"  Our  work  is  cut  out/'  said  Swarth  to  his  men 
when  they  had  assembled  at  his  call.  ^*'  We'll  run 
down  flying  a  distress  signal  to  fool  him,  and  we'll 
keep  out  of  sight  till  we  get  there.  Then — there's 
no  turning  back;  for  this  craft  can't  lay  alongside 
in  this  sea.  We'll  board  our  own  brig  and  take 
her  back.  We've  nothing  but  knives,  but  we  know 
how  to  use  them.  ITo  quarter,  for  you'll  get  none 
if  you  lose." 

They  yelled  an  approving  response  and  flour- 
ished their  knives.  And  Yank,  having  none,  ele- 
vated his  broad-axe-^a  murderous  tool  with  ten 
inches  of  razor-like  edge — and  yelled  the  loudest. 

Yards  were  squared,  reefs  taken  out,  and  the 
little  vessel  was  headed  toward  the  brig,  while  a 
British  ensign,  union  down,  was  fastened  in  the 
port  main  rigging;  then  all  but  Swarth  and  a  couple 
of  men — the  three  in  yellow  oilskins — hid  them- 
selves behind  the  rail,  sharpening  their  knives  as 
they  waited.  In  two  hours  they  could  make  out 
the  huge  figure  of  Chink  on  the  brig's  quarter,  and 
shortly  after  were  within  hailing  distance. 

"  Brig  ahoy!  "  roared  Swarth  through  a  trum- 
pet.    ^^Brig  ahoy!  " 

300 


A  Fail  from  Grace 


"  What  you  want  ?  "  came  back  faintly  against 
the  wind.     ''  Keep  off  wi'  dat  craft  in  dis  big  sea.'' 

"  Brig  ahoy!  "  again  called  Swarth,  as  though 
not  understanding  Chink's  answer.  '^  I'm  short  o' 
grub  and  water.  I'll  heave  to  to  windward  o'  you 
and  send  a  boat." 

Chink  sprang  frantically  to  the  top  of  the  sky- 
light, and,  waving  to  his  helmsman  to  put  the 
wheel  up,  sang  out  thundering  orders  to  his  men, 
plainly  distinguishable  now,  for  the  brigantine  was 
nearly  upon  him. 

It  was  too  late.  Swarth  had  gained  the  time 
he  needed,  and  now  putting  his  helm  hard  down, 
rounded  to  alongside  the  brig — yards  catching  yards 
aloft,  rigging  snapping,  and  Chink's  cosmopolitan 
crew  rivalling  their  leader  in  blasphemous  objurga- 
tion. Then  the  two  vessels  crashed  together,  and 
a  dozen  or  so  of  Chink's  men  sprang  over  with  their 
short  cutlasses,  ready  to  exterminate  the  lubberly 
visitors.  But  they  did  not  return ;  forty  red-shirted 
men  arose  to  receive  them,  and  great  was  their  sur- 
prise while  it  lasted.  There  were  oaths  and  ex- 
clamations, of  course,  steel  clicked  against  steel, 
and  some  red  shirts  were  slashed  and  stained  darker 
red;  but  it  was  not  a  fight — merely  a  killing. 

"Hurrah,  lads!"  shouted  Captain  Swarth,  as 
301 


Shipmates 


he  sprang  over  the  rail  to  his  own  craft.  ^^  Here 
are  the  men  who  left  us  to  starve.    Give  it  to  'em." 

Yank  among  them  with  his  broad-axe,  they 
followed;  and  Mr.  Todd,  unarmed  and  dignified, 
brought  up  to  the  rear.  The  little  brigantine,  with 
yards  square  and  canvas  aback,  bumped  her  way 
astern,  and  drifted  away — a  future  derelict.  Mr. 
Todd,  near  the  main  rigging  of  the  brig,  saw  her 
disappear,  but  had  neither  heart  nor  power  to  stop 
her — so  new,  and  horrid,  and  paralyzing  was  the 
sight  before  him — a  hand-to-hand  struggle  with 
knives  and  cutlasses — the  wickedest  warfare  that 
human  beings  ever  indulged  in.  A  few  single-shot 
pistols  exploded,  but  were  not  reloaded.  The 
shouting  now  was  done  by  the  mixed  crew  under 
Chink.  Swarth's  men — trained  in  sheath-knife 
fencing — saved  their  breath.  Where  one  could 
close  with  his  opponent,  he  had  the  advantage — a 
short  preliminary  wrestle,  an  opening,  a  sudden 
thrust,  and  there  was  a  man  less. 

But  they  could  not  always  close,  and  those  of 
Swarth's  men  who  had  seized  cutlasses  from  the 
over-supply  in  the  racks  of  the  gun  stations  did  not 
need  to;  so  there  was  a  nerve-racking  jingle  of  steel 
added  to  the  uproar  as  men  fenced  for  their  lives. 
Forward,  near  the  fore  rigging,  a  huge  negro  of 
302 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


Chink's  crew  lay  with  a  divided  shoulder — a  victim 
to  Yank  Tate's  broad-axe,  and  as  the  fascinated 
missionary  watched  he  saw  the  handle  of  his  broad- 
axe  rise  and  fall  regularly,  coming  down  on  heads 
and  blades  as  a  club. 

But  it  became  apparent  to  Mr.  Todd  that  in 
this  furious  melee  length  of  steel  was  telling;  there 
were  more  red-shirted  men  prone  upon  the  deck 
than  there  were  of  the  others.  Yank  had  become 
the  centre  of  an  enclosing  circle  of  flourishing 
blades,  which  he  was  keeping  at  a  proper  radius; 
and  on  the  poop  deck  Captain  Swarth  was  engaged 
with  Chink,  and  holding  his  own;  nevertheless  it 
was  plain  that  the  defenders  of  the  brig  were  win- 
ning. As  the  missionary  looked,  Swarth  slipped 
and  fell.  Before  he  recovered  himself  Chink  had 
sunk  his  blade  into  his  shoulder,  and  without  wait- 
ing to  repeat  the  thrust,  he  sprang  to  the  main- 
deck  to  join  his  men.  Then  it  was  that  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Todd  took  action. 

Selecting  a  capstan-bar  from  the  rack  near  him, 
he  whirled  it  over  his  head  and  walked  briskly  into 
the  fray,  his  long  clerical  coat-tails  flapping  with 
his  motion.  His  eyes  sparkled  in  his  sombre  face; 
his  lips  were  parted  and  drawn  tightly  over  his 
gleaming  teeth;  he  growled  incoherently;  he  was 
303 


Shipmates 


not  pleasant  to  look  upon,  nor  was  lie  pleasant  to 
meet.  A  man  faced  him  and  fell — with,  a  crushed 
head;  then  another,  and  another.  There  was  no 
standing  before  this  tall,  muscular  terror,  who 
whirled,  and  twisted,  and  flourished  that  six-foot 
club  with  quicker  motion  than  they  could  give  to 
their  cutlasses.  They  fell  back  and  left  him  a 
path,  but  he  turned  upon  them.  The  circle  around 
Yank  melted  away,  and  men  sprang  to  meet  the 
new  enemy — but  only  to  fall  when  they  reached 
him.  Swarth's  crew  took  heart  and  fought  harder, 
while  Chink,  whom  Mr.  Todd  was  plainly  trying 
to  find,  called  his  followers  around  him  at  the  for- 
ward door  of  the  cabin  and  bade  them  defend  it. 
Then  the  pirate  entered  the  cabin  and  returned 
with  the  canvas  ditty-bag. 

"  Here,"  he  called,  as  he  held  it  up.  '^  Here, 
you  humble  follower  of  de  meek  an'  lowly  Saviour. 
Dis  what  you  want.     Take  it,  an'  call  off  your 


''  Throw  it  to  me,"  yelled  the  frenzied  mission- 
ary.    ''  Throw  it  to  me." 

"  Stop  fightin',  and  make  terms.     We're  not 

beat  yet."     And  Mr.  Todd  essayed  to  oblige  him; 

but  the  furious  men  beside  him,  with  their  leader 

fallen,   would  not   desist.      They   pressed   harder 

304 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


upon  the  little  band  at  the  cabin  door.  Then  the 
bag  was  thrown — overboard. 

Mr.  Todd  became  a  homicidal  maniac.  He 
yelled  and  shrieked,  struck  and  prodded,  killing 
three  of  ten  men  surrounding  Chink  before  he 
met  the  chieftain  face  to  face.  Then  these  two 
fought — the  one  with  cutlass,  the  other  with  that 
terrible  club.  There  were  fifteen  of  Swarth's  men 
beside  him  when  that  duel  began,  and  of  these,  five 
fell  before  the  last  of  Chink's  followers  stretched 
upon  the  deck.  The  survivors  turned  to  end  the 
single  combat  raging  along  the  deck  from  main- 
mast to  foremast;  but  in  this  fight  there  was  no 
room  for  their  short  knives. 

Early  in  the  fray  Chink's  cutlass  flew  in 
pieces,  and  he  fled  to  the  main-mast,  there  to 
arm  himself  equally.  And  now,  around  the  deck, 
forward  and  aft,  to  starboard  and  port,  the  two  men 
were  contesting,  with  their  ponderous  weapons,  in 
a  fight  which  in  the  nature  of  things  could  have 
but  one  survivor.  The  giant  mulatto,  silent  and 
impassive,  whirled  his  club  and  retreated;  the 
equally  tall,  but  thinner,  wirier,  and  quicker-mo- 
tioned missionary,  yelling  and  exclaiming  insanely, 
pressed  him  hard — striving  to  bring  the  six-foot 
club  down  on  the  woolly  head  dodging  before  him. 
305 


Shipmates 


The  red-shirted  victors  formed  a  circle  about  them, 
but  not  one  cared  to  enter  within  the  sweep  of  those 
capstan-bars,  which,  when  they  met,  rebounded 
with  greater  force  than  is  usually  given  a  black- 
smith's sledge.  The  combatants  stepped  over  the 
dead  and  living  bodies,  and  upon  them;  they 
stooped,  endeavouring  to  lunge;  they  sprang  in  the 
air,  and  to  the  right  and  to  the  left;  they  fenced — 
and  their  fencing  came  of  no  skill  acquired  by  tute- 
lage, but  of  instincts  derived  from  the  age  of  stone, 
when  clubs  were  the  only  weapons  and  victory  the 
only  prize  of  combat — and  at  last  Chink  stumbled 
on  the  outstretched  arm  of  a  dead  man,  and  the  co- 
incident sweep  of  his  club  lost  its  initial  direction, 
just  enough  to  admit  of  the  descending  bludgeon 
of  the  missionary  to  strike  a  glancing  blow  on  his 
head.  He  fell,  but  his  head  was  not  injured;  it 
was  his  crushed  shoulder — crushed  by  the  impact 
of  the  carom  blow,  which  brought  an  agonized 
howl  from  his  throat  and  the  fight  to  an  end.  He 
dropped  his  weapon  and  sat  upon  the  deck. 

"Surrender!"  shouted  the  missionary,  hold- 
ing his  capstan-bar  poised. 

Chink  glared  at  him,  wildly  and  helplessly, 
making  no  response.     The  men  crowded  up. 

"  Bind  him  hand  and  foot,"  ordered  Mr.  Todd, 
306 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


panting  hard,  but  self-contained  now.  ''  Bind  him 
tight.  I  made  him  a  promise  once."  The  men 
obeyed  him  as  they  would  their  captain. 

Chink's  evil  face,  as  they  fastened  his  wrists 
and  ankles,  was  a  composite  of  all  unworthy  emo- 
tions; yet  he  made  no  sound  until  Mr.  Todd  ordered 
the  main-staysail  halyards  overhauled  to  the  deck 
and  a  hangman's  noose  made  in  the  end  of  the 
fall.  Then  he  voiced  his  protest  in  a  loud,  wail- 
ing tone. 

'^  You  won't  do  dat?  O  Mister  Todd;  you  won't 
do  dat?  Help!  Don't  hang  me.  I  give  you 
pearls.  I  got  lots.  I  gib  you  money  to  make  up. 
Don't  hang  me,  Mister  Todd." 

"Hush,"  answered  the  missionary,  sternly,  as 
they  slipped  the  noose  around  his  neck  and  drew 
it  tight.  "  You  marked  yourself  for  the  vengeance 
of  God  when  you  tortured  and  robbed  a  man  who 
had  not  harmed  you,  but  had  the  courage  to  follow 
you.  I  warned  you. — Up  with  him,  men,"  he 
called;  "hook  the  bight  in  the  stanchion  sheave 
and  bowse  him  up." 

The  howling  mulatto  was  lifted  upright,  his 

cries  troubling  the  air  until  the  noose  stifled  them; 

then,  amid  the  pitiless  laughter  and  shouting  of 

his  executioners,  he  went  aloft  to  the  halyard 

307 


shipmates 


block,  to  squirm  and  strangle  until  deatli  came  to 
him.  As  he  left  the  deck  Mr.  Todd  bowed  his  head 
and  lowered  his  eyes,  and  remained  in  this  attitude 
until  the  rope  was  belayed;  but  in  this  scene  of 
vengeance  and  reprisal  the  single-minded  Yank 
Tate  took  no  part. 

Mr.  Todd,  hardly  hearing  the  congratulations 
of  the  men  left  standing,  climbed  the  poop  steps 
and  looked  for  his  brigantine.  She  was  out  of 
sight,  behind  the  blank  wall  of  spindrift  raised  by 
the  storm.  He  looked  vacantly  at  the  red-shirted 
man  at  the  wheel,  who,  shouting  jubilantly,  was 
pushing  his  predecessor's  body  out  of  his  way  with 
his  feet.  He  looked  up  to  the  heavens  and  groaned 
hoarsely,  then  raising  his  arms  high  above  his  head, 
brought  them  slowly  down  with  a  sweeping  motion 
that  might  have  meant  renunciation  of  heaven  or 
defiance  of  hell.  His  eye  fell  upon  Captain  Swarth, 
who  was  beckoning,  and  weakly  trying  to  make 
himself  heard.  He  went  to  him,  bound  his 
wound  roughly,  placed  a  coil  of  rope  under  his 
head,  talked  with  him  for  a  moment,  then  went 
forward. 

Yank  Tate  sat  upon  the  deck  beside  his  victim, 
the  big  negro.  He  had  placed  his  knee  beneath 
the  woolly  head  for  a  pillow;  he  was  holding  a  tin 
308 


A  Fall  from  Grace 


pot  of  water  to  the  thick  lips  of  the  dying  man, 
and  explaining,  while  tears  welled  in  his  honest 
brown  eyes. 

"  Couldn't  help  it,  old  man,"  he  was  saying,  as 
Mr.  Todd  stopped  before  him.  "  An'  I  couldn't 
do  it  again,  God,  no — never  again.  I  can  use  a 
club,  but  not  an  axe — never  again.  You're  the 
only  one,  old  man,  and  I'm  d d  sorry." 

The  glazing  eyes  brightened  a  moment,  then 
dulled,  and  the  huge  black  head  rolled  to  one  side. 
The  negro  was  dead.  Tank  stood  up  and  looked 
into  the  drawn  face  of  Mr.  Todd  through  his 
tears. 

''  Yank  Tate,"  said  the  missionary  in  a  strained 
voice,  "  you  left  my  service  against  my  wishes 
and  engaged  with  Captain  Swarth,  refusing  to  take 
orders  from  me.  You  will  take  them  now;  I  am 
your  superior  officer.  My  life  is  wasted,  my  vessel 
is  lost,  and  my  wealth  is  in  the  sea.  From  the  sea 
will  I  recover  it.  Captain  Swarth  is  seriously 
though  not  fatally  injured,  and  I  have  engaged 
with  him  as  mate  and  quartermaster.  May  the 
Lord  have  mercy  on  our  two  souls,  Yank — on 
yours  in  particular  if  you  ever  cross  me  again. 
Clear  up  the  decks  and  throw  these  carrion  over- 
board." 

309 


shipmates 


"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  the  astounded  car- 
penter. 

Mr.  Todd  went  aft,  and  Yank  wiped  his  eyes. 

"  And  he  called  me  a  backslider,"  he  mut- 
tered. 


310 


THE  DUTCH  PORT  WATCH 


Half  the  crew  were  Liverpool  Irishmen — 
rough,  desperate  fellows,  equally  ready  to  drink 
and  fight  on  shore  and  to  mutiny  at  sea,  but  sailors 
in  head  and  heart,  able  seamen  in  all  that  the  name 
implies.  The  other  half  represented  the  slums  of 
nearly  every  seaport  of  Europe — Danes,  Germans, 
"  SouVegians,^'  and  "  Dagoes,"  all  classed  to- 
gether by  English  and  American  sailors  as 
"  Dutchmen." 

The  first  mate  was  a  Norwegian,  a  little  dried- 
up  fellow  who  always  looked  as  though  he  had  just 
been  whipped,  and  in  choosing  watches,  this  ofiicer 
picked  the  Dutchmen,  for  reasons  that  were  plain 
to  us  all;  while  the  English  second  mate,  a  larger, 
older,  and  presumably  more  efiicient  man,  selected 
the  Irishmen  and  to  my  satisfaction  included  me, 
for  I  had  the  true  American  boy's  distaste  for  for- 
eigners and  considered  an  Irishman  as  nearer  my 
kin  than  any  one  of  the  Latin,  German,  or  Scan- 
dinavian races. 

311 


shipmates 


The  third  mate  was  an  American,  but  a  weak- 
ling— a  young  man  with  a  heavy  mustache  and 
vapid  face,  who,  from  the  time  he  was  thrashed  by 
a  httle  cockney  stowaway  who  came  to  light  within 
a  few  days,  was  the  object  of  all  hands'  derision 
and  contempt.  The  boatswain,  a  heavily-built, 
black-eyed,  sun-burned  fellow,  was  the  ablest  of 
our  officers.  Being  the  only  man  of  the  old  crew 
who  declined  to  be  worked  out  at  Liverpool,  he  had 
been  promoted  to  the  post  of  boatswain  solely — 
as  he  claimed — to  placate  him  and  forestall  any 
possible  complaints  at  ISTew  York  in  regard  to  the 
quality  of  food  given  to  the  crew  on  the  last  pas- 
sage. Evidence  as  to  what  this  food  must  have 
been  was  found  in  the  sprouting  grain  in  old  pans 
and  pots  in  the  forecastle;  and  the  boatswain 
averred  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  cargo  of  good 
wheat  the  crew  would  have  mutinied,  as  nothing 
short  of  starvation  would  induce  a  man  to  eat  the 
poisonous  condemned  navy  stores  which  the  cap- 
tain had  purchased  at  San  Francisco. 

But  there  was  no  lack  of  good  food — of  its 
kind — on  this  passage;  and  the  captain — old  Bully 
McKane,  as  he  was  called — made  a  characteristic 
speech  in  regard  to  it.  When  the  two  mates  had 
finished  choosing  watches  and  dismissed  us,  he 
312 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

stepped  to  the  break  of  the  poop,  and  bellowed: 
^'  Stay  where  you  are — I  want  a  word  or  two  with 
you/'  We  halted  and  looked  up  at  the  squat  fig- 
ure outlined  against  the  moonlight  in  the  sky. 

"  I  have  heard  ashore/'  he  began  in  his  raspy 
voice,  ''  a  good  deal  about  my  shipping  a  crew  of 
Dutchmen  at  'Frisco  that  I  could  safely  kill  with 
w^ork  on  rotten  grub;  and  I  have  heard  that  my 
ship  was  the  hungriest  packet  that  ever  docked  at 
Liverpool.  I  never  want  to  hear  that  again.  I 
have  shipped  this  time  as  many  tarriers  as  I  could 
find  and  as  few  Dutchmen,  and  picked  the  biggest ; 
but  I  haven't  shipped  a  man  I  can't  get  away  with. 
I  have  laid  in  full  and  plenty  of  the  best  grub  in 
the  market,  and  I'm  going  to  give  you  all  you  can 
eat  of  it  and  as  much  work  as  I  can  lay  into  you; 
and  if  you  don't  work  I'll  break  every  head  among 
you.     Now  go  forward  and  commence." 

The  profanity  with  which  he  punctuated  these 
remarks  is  not  given;  it  Avould  not  add  to  their 
emphasis.  This  was  at  eight  bells  in  the  evening, 
but  we  went  "  forrard  "  and  ''  commenced."  Night 
and  day  throughout  the  passage  we  scraped  and 
painted  spars  and  deck-fittings,  set  up,  rattled 
down  and  tarred  down  rigging,  and  holy-stoned  the 
deck.  This  last  job,  which  is  ordinarily  left  to  the 
21  313 


Shipmates 


end,  was  begun  right  in  the  middle  of  the  tarring 
and  painting,  and  coincident  with  the  shedding  of 
the  officers'  coats  and  their  going  to  work  with  the 
rest  of  us.  The  captain  watched  the  ship,  and  to 
give  us  time  to  clean  up  before  making  port,  sailed 
her  down  below  the  Azores.  She  was  a  large 
double  top-gallantsail  and  skysail  yard  ship,  with 
a  beautiful  hard-pine  deck  on  which  our  holy- 
stones slid  like  soap.  These  holy-stones  were 
blocks  of  sandstone  eighteen  inches  square,  with 
ropes  fast  to  them  by  which  three  men  to  wind- 
ward and  two  to  leeward  could  drag  them  across 
the  deck.  Captain  McKane  personally  superin- 
tended this  work,  and  often  would  seat  himself  on 
a  holy-stone  to  increase  the  pressure;  then,  while 
he  swore  at  us,  we  would  ride  him  back  and  forth. 
Once  a  perspiring  Irishman  stopped  hauling  and 
said :  "  Can't  I  make  ye  a  whip  next  watch  below, 
cappen,  so  ye  kin  lick  up  yer  harses?"  He  was 
promptly  knocked  down  and  stepped  upon  until 
he  promised  to  be  civil.   . 

The  captain  was  crowding  into  a  short  Atlantic 
run  the  work  which  a  passage  around  the  Horn  is 
none  too  long  for,  with  the  result  that  nothing 
was  done  thoroughly,  and  some  things  done  twice 
over.  The  men  revenged  themselves  by  all  sorts 
314 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

of  pretty  tricks — for  instance,  a  little  scratch, 
would  appear  in  the  deck,  indicating  the  presence, 
on  the  bottom  surface  of  the  holy-stone,  of  a  small 
pebble.  This  was  always  picked  out,  of  course, 
but  usually  just  before  the  appearance  of  the  cap- 
tain in  the  vicinity  and  after  the  deck  at  that  spot 
resembled  a  chopping-block.  And  paint  pots  and 
tar  pots  would  sail  down  from  aloft,  spattering 
their  contents  anywhere;  but,  as  in  every  case  the 
offender  was  called  down  to  a  painful  rebuking, 
grievances  were  not  thoroughly  adjusted  in  this 
manner. 

Boy-like,  I  took  a  hand  in  this,  and  success- 
fully. I  was  sent  aloft  one  day  by  the  captain  to 
overhaul  buntlines  on  the  mizzen;  and  when  about 
to  climb  to  the  royal  yard  I  noticed  a  half-filled 
tar  pot  fastened  to  the  runner  of  the  halyards — left 
there  by  one  of  the  other  watch.  The  rigging  be- 
low was  filled  with  men,  tarring  and  painting,  and 
beneath,  pacing  the  now  white  quarter-deck,  was 
Captain  McKane.  I  weighed  the  chances,  consid- 
ered that  I  was  the  only  one  on  the  mizzen  who 
could  not  show  a  pot  of  some  kind,  also  that  I  was 
the  only  one  not  supposed  to  have  a  pot,  and,  put- 
ting my  trust  in  Providence,  let  it  go,  giving  it 
a  gentle  toss  to  windward.  It  sprinkled  tar  on 
315 


shipmates 


every  yard  and  sail  in  its  descent,  then,  striking 
the  white  sky-light  amidships,  bounded  straight  for 
the  captain's  face,  and  cutting  his  cljeek  open,  gen- 
tly emptied  the  rest  of  the  tar  down  his  starched 
shirt-front.  Before  that  pot  had  passed  the  top- 
sail yards  I  was  half-way  up  to  the  royal,  and  while 
the  captain  was  roaring  up,  "  Come  down,  every 
infernal  one  of  you,"  I  was  innocently  busy  at  my 
task  on  the  yard  where  no  tar  pots  were  supposed 
to  be.  Down  we  all  came  and  gave  evidence.  My 
disclaimer  was  loudest  as  my  position  was  secur- 
est; but  it  was  not  until  next  watch  below  that  I 
knew  how  well  my  shipmates  had  stood  by  me. 

^^  l!^ext  time,  sonny,"  said  one  of  them,  ''  take 
better  aim;  an'  if  ye  kin  put  a  marline-spike  in  the 
pot,  do  it,  for  the  good  of  his  sconce — the  shlave- 
driver."  It  was  the  thoughtless  trick  of  a  boy. 
If  that  tar  pot  had  struck  the  captain  fairly  on  the 
head,  our  troubles  might  have  ended,  as  the  mean- 
est Dutchman  aboard  would  not  have  feared  the 
mates,  and  the  boatswain  was  one  of  us. 

To  our  other  crimes  against  property  we  added 
that  of  broaching  cargo.  We  found  in  the  'tween- 
deck,  lashed  to  a  stanchion  near  the  cabin  trunk, 
a  half-barrel  of  Golden  Drip  sirup  belonging 
either  to  the  cabin  stores  or  to  some  unoffending 
316 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

consignees — we  did  not  inquire.  We  easily  picked 
out  the  bung  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  by 
lowering  a  cle^n  Manilla  rope-yarn  into  the  cask 
and  draining  off  the  adhering  sirup  into  a  tin  pot, 
kept  both  forecastles  supplied  for  the  passage.  It 
much  improved  our  duff,  the  usual  sauce  for  which 
is  Santa  Eosa  molasses. 

This  molasses  is  the  last  dregs  of  the  vats  and 
bears  so  close  a  resemblance  to  Stockholm  tar  in 
viscidity,  stickiness,  and  general  nastiness,  that  in 
forecastle  discourse  it  sometimes  borrows  the 
name.  Every  duff  day  (Sunday  and  Thursday) 
two  quarts  of  this  stuff  would  be  passed  into  each 
forecastle,  and  not  caring  to  return  it  or  throw  it 
overboard  in  the  daytime,  we  merely  dumped  it 
into  a  condemned  wash-deck  tub,  which  lay  in  the 
forecastle,  and  later  on  found  a  use  for  it. 

The  duff  too  is  an  institution  only  found  at  sea 
— a  pasty  mess  of  cheap  flour  and  fresh  water, 
lightened  with  a  very  little  saleratus  and  shortened 
with  a  great  deal  of  slush  from  the  cook's  barrel, 
tied  up  in  a  bag  and  boiled  in  salt  water;  but  it  is 
a  treat  to  sailors,  and  duff  days  are  looked  forward 
to.  Christmas  came  on  Wednesday  and  we  hoped 
that  it  would  be  a  holiday  according  to  custom; 
but  we  holy-stoned — profanely — and  only  found 
317 


shipmates 


the  day  honoured  with  duff.  For  this  we  were 
duly  thankful,  but  when  the  next  day  (the  regular 
duff  day)  passed  off  with  the  Wednesday  pea  soup 
for  dinner,  our  opinion  of  Captain  McKane  was 
heartfelt  and  unanimous. 

At  last  the  awful  holy-stoning  was  finished  and 
the  deck  scrubbed  clean  early  on  a  moist  day  of 
Gulf  Stream  weather,  at  the  end  of  which  all 
hands,  including  the  cook,  steward,  and  carpenter, 
went  at  the  job  of  oiling  it — half  dry  as  it  was. 
Time  was  limited  and  oil  plenty,  so  we  literally 
poured  it  around  in  a  profusion  that  would  have 
prevented  its  drying  in  a  week,  even  with  sun- 
shine to  help.  All  that  day  we  had  been  painting 
bulwarks  and  blocks  aloft  and  continued  this  work 
up  to  the  oiling  of  the. deck,  the  result  being  that 
night  came  down  with  wet  paint  everywhere  which 
we  were  not  supposed  to  touch,  and  a  slippery  deck 
beneath  us  which  we  were  not  supposed  to  walk 
on,  planks  for  this  being  laid  around  where  travel 
was  necessary. 

But  with  the  coming  of  night  came  a  Cape  Hat- 
teras  gale  from  the  northeast  with  sleet  and  snow. 
Then  was  developed  a  curious  state  of  affairs — 
not  a  man  on  board  but  the  boatswain  knew  the 
ropes.  We  had  made  sail  in  the  Channel  as  a  new 
318 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

crew  always  does — by  feeling  our  way;  we  had  not 
shortened  sail  once  since  then  and  touched  no 
ropes  but  braces;  she  was  a  curiously  rigged  craft 
with  experimental  gear  all  through  her;  and  with 
skysailclew-lines  and  buntlines  mingling  with 
royal  gear,  and  the  extra  upper  top-gallant  down- 
hauls  and  spilling-lines  hidden  in  a  maze  of  lower 
buntlines  at  the  fife-rail,  she  presented,  with  her 
oily  deck,  a  problem  that  we  did  not  solve  for  ten 
hours.  Ten  terrible  hours  they  were,  too,  of 
darkness  and  storm,  of  freezing  wind  and  blinding 
sleet  and  snow.  The  ship  was  in  ballast  trim  and 
was  tossed  over  the  seas  like  an  egg-shell.  With  a 
deck  made  greasier  by  the  mixture  of  oil  and  snow, 
no  one  was  sure  of  his  footing,  and  it  was  a  com- 
mon occurrence  that  night  for  a  dozen  or  fifteen 
men  to  be  launched  headlong  toward  the  lee-bow 
as  she  dived  into  a  sea. 

A  general  rule  is  to  heave-to  on  the  starboard 
tack  north  of  the  equator,  in  order  to  drift  away 
from  the  storm-centre;  but  with  Cape  Hatteras  to 
leeward,  Captain  McKane  did  not  dare.  He  put 
the  ship  on  the  port  tack,  and  nearly  on  her  beam 
ends  from  the  increasing  pressure,  she  drifted  to 
sea  while  we  endeavoured  to  shorten  sail.  When 
thoroughly  drenched,  one  by  one,  we  found  an  op- 
319 


shipmates 


portunity  to  sneak  into  the  forecastle  and  don  oil- 
skins. 

Skysails,  royals,  and  head-sails  came  in  easily 
in  the  darkness  by  our  letting  go  all  ropes  which 
might  contain  among  them  sheets  or  halyards  and 
hauling  on  anything  that  might  be  a  buntline,  clew- 
line, or  downhaul.  We  got  the  upper  top-gallant- 
sails  down  but  could  not  find,  in  the  inky  smudge, 
buntlines  or  spilling-lines,  so  left  them  to  clew  up 
the  lower.  This  done,  we  reduced  the  upper  top- 
sails to  hollow  cylinders — unable  as  with  the  upper 
top-gallant-sails  to  find  the  spilling-lines — and  then 
hauled  up  the  courses  by  ^^  brute  strength  and  stu- 
pidity " — all  hands,  for  instance,  tugging  at  a  fore 
buntline  for  a  full  half-hour  without  gaining  an 
inch  before  discovering  that  the  bight  of  a  gasket 
was  jammed  in  the  block  above.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  boatswain,  more  incompetent  officers 
than  ours  never  pretended  to  oversee  a  crew  of 
men.  I^ow  and  then  a  roar  would  leave  the  poop 
from  the  captain,  which  the  boatswain  would  an- 
swer and  try  to  attend  to,  but  the  three  mates  kept 
themselves  out  of  his  sight — huddled  under  the  lee 
of  the  weather  rail  or  the  forward  house — and 
rarely  uttered  an  order. 

The  outer  and  flying  jibs  were  bags  on  the  jib- 
320 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

boom  threatening  to  tear  it  out  of  her;  for,  light 
as  the  ship  was,  she  sometimes  spooned  up  a  green 
sea;  and  with  nothing  set  now  but  the  lower  top- 
sails, two  head-sails,  and  the  spanker — everything 
else  being  in  bights  or  ribbons — we  went  aloft  to 
furl.  I  found  myself  on  the  mizzen  skysail  yard 
—where  I  belonged — and  spent  a  cool  hour  there 
before  I  mastered  the  sail;  for  by  this  time  it  was 
blowing  so  hard  that  breathing  was  difficult  facing 
the  wind,  and  in  the  rigging,  climbing  up  was 
easier  than  climbing  down. 

Descending,  I  found  the  royal  furled,  the  up- 
per top-gallant  yard  stripped  bare — I  had  not 
heard  the  sail  go — and  four  of  my  Irish  watch 
mates  struggling  with  a  remnant  of  the  lower  top- 
gallant-sail. My  assistance,  slight  as  it  was,  turned 
the  balance  and  we  conquered  it.  Below  us  was  the 
rest  of  the  watch  fighting  the  upper  topsail,  and 
with  nothing  accomplished.  We  joined  them,  but 
it  was  only  by  lying  out  at  full  length  on  that  rigid 
cylinder  and  fishing  with  our  toes  for  the  gaskets 
tossed  up  from  underneath  that  we  finally  smoth- 
ered the  sail  and  furled  it.  The  cro'-jack,  with  its 
clews  hauled  into  the  bunt,  was  easy,  compared 
with  that  topsail,  and  we  made  short  work  of  it, 
coming  down  to  go  up  the  main. 
321 


shipmates 


Again  I  found  myself  alone — on  the  main  sky- 
sail  yard — and  yelled  for  help,  as  this  sail  was  a 
task  for  a  grown  man  in  easier  weather.  In  about 
ten  minutes  a  man  came  up  from  below  and  to- 
gether we  furled  it,  after  I  was  nearly  brushed 
from  the  yard  by  the  parting  of  the  weather  bunt- 
line  ;  then  we  descended  to  the  royal  and  were  com- 
pelled to  shout  again  for  help.  The  men  on  the 
top-gallant  yard  were  having  their  hands  full,  and 
answered,  "  Cut  the  bloomin'  rag  away  and  give 
us  a  hand."  As  royals  were  cheaper  than  top-gal- 
lant-sails, and  as  the  thrashing  sail  was  endanger- 
ing the  slight  spar,  we  obliged  them,  I  at  the 
weather  side  barely  getting  off  the  foot-rope  be- 
fore the  sail  whirled  over  my  head,  smothering  my 
companion's  curses  and  binding  him  tight.  I  cut 
the  clew-lines,  and  in  half  a  minute  more  there  was 
nothing  but  shreds  left  of  the  main  royal. 

Ten  Irishmen  and  an  active  boy  can  furl  an 
upper  main  top-gallant-sail,  no  matter  how  hard  it 
blows,  if  they  have  time,  but  we  had  begun  to  fear 
that  we  would  not  have  time  before  the  gale  ended; 
we  were  encouraging  one  another  to  cut  it  away — 
which  was  easier  than  furling — and  the  man  far- 
thest to  leeward  had  ruined  his  sheath-knife  by  a 
desperate  slash  in  the  darkness  at  a  chain  head  ear- 
322 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

ing,  when  one  man  in  the  bunt  caught  a  bare  inch 
of  a  gasket  tossed  up  by  a  man  on  the  yard  below. 
The  men  each  side  of  him  held  his  legs  while  he 
crawled  out  on  the  hollow  cushion  of  icy  canvas 
and  secured  a  firmer  grip;  then  he  was  dragged 
back,  the  gasket  coming  with  him;  others  caught 
hold,  and  the  sail  was  smothered  and  furled  in  ten 
minutes. 

The  lower  top-gallant-sail  with  clews  amidships 
was  a  five  minutes'  job,  and  we  came  down  to  the 
upper  topsail  yard  and  spread  out  on  that  frozen 
cylinder,  knowing  to  a  man  that  we  could  not  furl 
it;  but  it  was  our  business  to  try,  and  we  did,  to 
the  extent  of  punching  our  fists  into  it  without 
making  a  dent,  though  hurting  our  knuckles. 
^Neither  spilling-lines  nor  reef-tackles  had  been 
touched;  but  the  upper  and  lower  edges  of  the  sail 
were  brought  close  together  by  the  downhauls, 
and  through  this  great  pipe  the  wind  hummed  with 
a  sound  that  I  have  often  heard  in  the  subtones  of 
a  pipe-organ.  It  prevented  all  communication  by 
speech,  and  we  looked  for  some  gesture  or  sign 
from  the  boatswain  in  the  slings  to  indicate  what 
we  were  to  do,  and  saw  him  pointing  forward. 
There,  through  the  darkness  and  snow,  we  made 
out  the  port  watch  streaming  slowly  down  the 
323 


Shipmates 


foretopmast  rigging,  leaving  behind  them  a  furled 
skysail  and  royal — all  they  had  done — and  two 
top-gallant-sails  in  ribbons. 

Motioning  us  to  remain,  the  boatswain  de- 
scended, and  after  a  while  we  felt  the  spilling-lines 
creasing  into  the  sail;  but  they  were  not  hauled 
home,  nor  were  the  reef-tackles  touched.  The 
boatswain  came  back  and  beckoned  us  down.  He 
told  us  afterward  that  he  had  chased  the  Dutch- 
men out  of  their  forecastle  and  put  the  spilling- 
lines  in  their  hands,  but  they  were  half-frozen, 
almost  unable  to  get  out  of  their  own  way,  and 
that  it  was  impossible  to  get  them  into  the  rigging. 
The  three  mates  were  out  of  sight — he  did  not 
know  where. 

We  descended  with  ice  on  our  left  sides  and 
breasts  a  quarter  inch  thick,  leaving  untouched 
the  mainsail,  which  now  resembled  a  snow- 
drift on  the  lee  yard-arm;  for  it  was  useless 
for  one  watch  to  attempt  furling  it.  We  had 
worked  bare-handed  aloft,  our  blood  was  circulat- 
ing, and  we  had  not  really  suffered  from  cold;  but 
no  sensation  that  I  can  remember  ever  equalled 
the  agreeable  warmth  I  experienced  under  the  lee 
of  the  weather  rail  on  deck.  I  was  thirsty,  and 
while  I  had  the  chance,  darted  into  the  "  boys' 
324 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

room ''  to  get  a  drink  of  water.    There,  sitting  on 
my  chest,  was  the  third  mate,  crying. 

"What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Parker?"  I  asked, 
rather  amazed. 

"  Got  a  spare  sou'wester,  boy? "  he  whim- 
pered.   "  I've  lost  mine." 

I  had  one,  and  pulling  it  from  my  bunk,  gave  it 
to  him,  secured  my  drink,  and  stepped  out  on  deck, 
meeting  the  boatswain  coming  in — possibly  on  the 
same  errand  that  had  brought  me.  Then,  through 
the  open  door,  I  heard  some  bad  language,  and 
soon  out  shot  Mr.  Parker  with  the  boatswain's  fist 
close  behind.  He  fell  on  the  main  hatch  and  the 
boatswain  followed,  kicked  him  off  the  hatch  to  the 
greasy  deck  and  into  the  lee  scuppers,  kicked  him 
solidly  and  silently  a  few  times  more,  and  left  him. 
The  pitiful  officer  picked  himself  up,  sneaked  for- 
ward, and  was  not  seen  again  until  the  trouble 
was  over. 

1^0 w  there  came  a  roar  from  the  captain  on  the 
quarter-deck  steps.  "  Bosun,"  he  called,  "  I  want 
you  to  take  your  crowd  of  Micks  up  the  fore  and 
try  to  stow  those  t'-gallant-sails.  If  you  can't  do 
it,  cut  'em  away  'fore  they  take  the  spars  out  of 
her.  The  port  watch  are  dead  and  my  officers  are 
hidden.  Bear  a  hand  now." 
325 


shipmates 


''  Ay,  ay,  sir/'  answered  the  boatswain  cheer- 
fully. "  Come  on,  bullies,"  he  said  to  us;  "  we'll 
do  their  work  for  'em,  and  break  their  heads  after- 
ward." 

"  Not  much,"  I  said  to  myself;  "  I've  had 
enough."  For,  seventeen  years  old,  half-formed 
and  irresponsible,  I  felt  that  I  had  done  my  share; 
and,  resolved  on  doing  a  little  ^'  soldiering  "  my- 
self, went  forward  with  the  grumbling  crowd,  and 
farther  than  they;  for  I  shot  into  the  arms  of  the 
first  mate,  who,  with  some  of  his  watch,  was 
skulking  under  the  top-gallant  forecastle. 

"  Vat  yer  vant  here,  boy?  "  he  snarled  vicious- 
ly. "  Get  oud  on  deck."  I  got,  according  to  my 
orders,  and  it  was  perhaps  well  for  the  others  that 
the  mate — ^possibly  through  shame— followed  me; 
for  at  the  weather  fore  rigging  I  met  the  cap- 
tain. 

'^  Lay  aloft  there,"  he  shouted,  and  this  was 
repeated  by  the  mate  behind  with  the  addition: 
"Hidin'  under  der  fo'castle,  sir;  I  yoost  chased 
him  out." 

"  It's  a  lie,  captain,"  I  yelled  from  the  sheer- 
pole.     "  I've  been  aloft  half  the  night." 

"  And  where  have  you  been,  you  blasted  old 
hen?  "  I  heard  the  captain  say  in  his  mighty  voice. 
326 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

Then,  as  I  climbed  the  ratlines  and  their  figures 
became  indistinct  in  the  darkness,  I  heard,  even 
above  the  roar  of  the  gale,  a  crashing  sound  fol- 
lowed by  a  hollow  thud — as  of  a  skull  impacting 
on  a  water-tank — and  knew  that  something  had 
happened  to  the  mate. 

I  joined  my  watch-mates  on  the  top-gallant 
yard  and  was  called  a  fool  for  coming.  Our  task 
was  a  hard  one;  but  the  very  men  who  had  cut 
away  a  good  main  royal  and  mizzen  top-gallant-sail 
rather  than  furl  them  now  laboured  like  horses  to 
save  two  worthless  remnants,  because  it  was  a  job 
given  up  by  the  other  watch.  We  conquered  the 
ragged  tangle,  lashed  it  to  both  yards,  and  de- 
scended, making  no  pretence  of  an  attempt  to  furl 
the  sails  beneath.  It  would  have  been  as  easy  to 
furl  a  section  of  a  steamship's  funnel  as  that  hol- 
low, icy  upper  topsail  humming  its  song  to  the 
gale;  and  as  for  the  foresail — snow  and  sleet  and 
freezing  spindrift  were  binding  it  tighter  than  a 
man-of-war's  crew  could  have  done.  It  thrashed 
a  little,  as  it  hung  in  the  buntlines,  but  not  enough 
to  damage  it. 

As  I  felt  again  that  agreeable  warmth  under 
the  weather  rail,  I  vowed  by  all  I  held  holy  that 
no  power  on  earth  should  get  me  aloft  again  that 


Shipmates 


night;  but  along  came  the  stricken  and  rejuven- 
ated Dutch  mate. 

^^Now  den — now  den,  you  starboard  watch; 
go  oud  and  stow  der  yibs — stow  der  ouder  and 
flyin'  yibs/'  he  called,  as  loudly  and  bravely  as 
though  his  record  was  good. 

"  Stow  nothinV  growled  an  Irishman; 
^'  where's  yer  own  crowd?  " 

^'  We  b'long  aft — we've  done  our  work/'  said 
others. 

"  Yell,  come  aft  and  clew  up  der  mizzen  topsail. 
Hurrah,  now;  you  belong  on  der  mizzen,  you  say." 

Just  then  a  dark  figure  passed  behind  the  mate, 
and  he  went  down,  slid  to  leeward  on  the  slippery 
deck,  and  crawled  aft  in  the  darkness.  Something, 
or  somebody,  must  have  hit  him;  and,  as  nobody 
claimed  the  credit,  I  think  the  dark  figure  was  the 
boatswain,  who,  being  an  officer,  waived  the  later 
honors. 

But  with  the  mate  thus  disposed  of  we  still 
had  the  captain,  who  was  not  so  easy.  He  was 
forward  in  a  few  moments,  indignantly  rebuking 
us  with  bad  words  and  a  belaying-pin,  and  we 
went  aft  at  his  behest  and  clewed  up  his  mizzen 
topsail;  then  we  climbed  aloft — I  going  along  in 
epite  of  my  vow — and  spread  ourselves  along  the 
328 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

icy  yard  and  foot-rope  to  another  half -hour's  work. 
We  furled  it,  after  a  fashion,  and  compacted,  one 
with  the  other  along  the  yard  before  laying  in,  that 
our  next  task  would  be  to  hunt  for  the  port  watch. 

But  our  next  task  was  really  a  scramble  for 
dear  life  in  along  the  yard.  About  half  of  us  were 
into  the  rigging  when  the  weather  end  of  the 
furled  topsail  lifted  off  the  yard;  then,  with  a 
snapping  of  gaskets  and  robands,  and  a  flapping, 
thrashing,  and  scattering  of  ice,  the  whole  sail  went 
over  to  leeward,  going  to  pieces  almost  before  it 
was  blown  from  the  yard.  A  later  investigation 
by  the  boatswain  discovered  the  outer  gasket  and 
a  few  robands,  as  well  as  the  bolt-ropes  close 
to  the  head-cringle,  nearly  cut  through — indicat- 
ing some  sheath-knife  work.  The  man  farthest  to 
windward,  and  who  must  have  done  it,  was  the 
one  who  had  been  knocked  down  at  the  holy-ston- 
ing; but  he  was  not  accused  or  troubled — the  boat- 
swain saying  nothing  about  it. 

On  reaching  the  deck  we  trooped  forward,  the 
captain  following  us,  cursing  and  roaring  to  "  take 
in  the  spanker.''  "We  answered  him  not.  We 
cleaned  out  the  midship  capstan-bar  rack,  which 
gave  us  six  long  clubs.  Five  belaying-pins — my 
own  an  iron  affair — completed  our  armament,  and 
23  329 


shipmates 


we  hunted  for  Dutchmen.  We  found  them  under 
the  top-gallant  forecastle,  in  the  paint  locker  and 
boatswain's  locker,  and  in  their  own  forecastle — 
two  in  their  bunks — with  the  door  closed. 

We  hammered,  punched,  kicked,  and  cuffed 
them,  crowding  them  on  deck,  up  the  forecastle 
steps,  and  out  the  icy  bowsprit.  We  clustered  in 
the  knightheads,  threatening  to  brain  the  first 
Dutchman  who  came  in  before  the  jibs  were 
stowed;  and  as  they  were,  evidently,  more  afraid 
of  us  than  they  were  of  the  storm  and  the  danger, 
they  stowed  the  jibs.  When  they  came  in  we  took 
it  upon  ourselves  to  let  go  the  inner-jib  halyards. 
They  hauled  it  down  and  went  out  and  stowed  it, 
while  we  bossed  the  job.  Then  we  chased  them 
aft  and  told  the  captain  that  if  he  wanted  the 
spanker  furled  we  would  have  it  done  for  him.  He 
replied  that  he  would  like  to  have  it  furled  (he  had 
grasped  the  situation  and  wisely  accepted  it);  we 
asked  him — very  respectfully — if  he  wanted  it 
reefed  first,  and  he  said  that  he  did;  so  we  saw  that 
it  was  done.  The  first  mate  was  there  and  assisted 
in  the  job,  and  during  the  persuasion  necessary 
was  rapped  on  the  head  more  than  once  by  an  iron 
belaying-pin. 

As  the  ship  was  carrying  too  much  head-sail 
330 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

now  to  balance  well,  we  suggested  taking  off  the 
foretopmast-staysail,  to  which  the  captain's  dig- 
nity prevented  a  response;  but  we  drove  them 
forward  again,  took  in  this  sail,  and  consulted. 
We  were  now  under  the  fore  and  main  lower  top- 
sails with  the  upper  topsails  and  courses  unfurled, 
but  steady.  If  it  had  been  in  the  power  of  all 
hands  to  have  furled  either  of  these  last,  we  would 
have  driven  our  slaves  aloft  and  gone  with  them; 
for  we  were  officers  for  the  first  time,  and  enjoyed 
the  experience. 

It  was  now  after  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
and  the  Dutchmen's  watch  below,  so  we  relieved 
the  wheel — the  ''  Sou'wegian  "  who  had  steered 
eleven  hours  in  a  warm,  dry  wheel-house  complain- 
ing bitterly  of  his  long  trick  when  he  came  for- 
ward until  silenced  by  an  Irish  fist — ^but  we  com- 
pelled them  to  coil  up  the  gear  before  allowing  a 
man  to  leave  the  deck.  While  this  was  going  on 
the  second  mate  appeared — quietly  coiling  up 
ropes.  Where  this  officer  had  been  during  the 
trouble,  and  how  he  explained  to  the  captain,  is  a 
mystery.  He  was  a  shrewd,  experienced  man — 
an  officer  for  years — but  had  seemed  to  go  to 
pieces  that  night.  Neither  he,  nor  the  first  and 
third  mates,  received  another  order  from  the  cap- 
331 


Shipmates 


tain,  or  gave  one  to  the  men,  for  the  rest  of  the 
passage.  They  moved  about  the  decks,  trying  to 
be  of  use  in  a  half-hearted,  embarrassed  way,  but 
were  thoroughly  ignored  by  the  captain,  and  in- 
sulted by  the  men. 

The  storm-centre  must  have  been  past  us  now, 
to  the  eastward,  and  travelling  faster  than  our 
drift;  for  the  wind  moderated  at  daylight.  Before 
evening  we  had  made  top-gallant  sails,  and  by  the 
next  morning  the  whole  of  the  canvas,  bending 
new  sails  in  place  of  those  lost.  Cold  weather  con- 
tinued as  we  sailed  up  to  Sandy  Hook,  and  one 
would  have  thought  that,  after  our  assuming  police 
duty  during  the  blow.  Captain  McKane  would  hesi- 
tate to  "  work  us  up  ''  any  more.  But  he  kept  us 
at  it,  the  last  job  given  the  Irish  half  being  to  tar 
down  the  fore  rigging  at  night  in  the  middle  watch, 
after  the  tug  had  taken  our  line. 

Captain  McKane  did  not  know  until  the  sun 
had  warmed  up  his  rigging  in  port,  and  the  fore 
channels,  rail  and  deck  were  covered  on  both  sides 
with  a  black,  sticky  mess,  that  we  had  filled  our 
tar  pots  with  the  despised  Santa  Eosa  molasses 
accumulated  in  the  old  wash-deck  tub.  It  re- 
mained in  place  only  as  long  as  the  rigging  was 
cold.  But  the  treacle  on  the  forward  deck  was  not 
332 


The  Dutch  Port  Watch 

the  only  disfiguration  of  this  big  "  skysail  yarder  '' 
which  we  had  worked  so  hard  to  make  a  yacht  of. 
Deck  and  paintwork  from  bow  to  stern  were 
spotted  like  the  hide  of  a  brindle  cow,  while  one 
side  of  every  fixture,  spar,  and  rope,  from  the  deck 
to  the  trucks,  was  covered  with  a  coating  of  salt, 
left  there  as  the  frozen  spindrift  thawed,  so  that 
from  a  position  four  points  off  the  port  bow  she 
could  easily  appear  in  a  half  light  as  a  dingy,  di- 
lapidated, spectral  Flying  Dutchman. 


333 


ON  THE  FORECASTLE  DECK 


"  Who  goes  on  lookout?  '^ 

I  am  the  man  and  I  call  out  my  name. 

"  Watch  out  for  a  flashing  white  light  on  the 
port  bow.  Believe  the  wheel  and  lookout.  That'll 
do  the  watch." 

A  man  goes  aft  to  the  wheel,  the  watch  goes 
below,  and  I  climb  the  steps  to  the  forecastle  deck, 
where  my  predecessor  is  waiting  at  the  capstan. 

^'  Keep  your  eyes  peeled  for  a  flash-light  ahead 
and  to  port.    Pass  the  word  along." 

"  All  right.  Go  below — but  what  do  they  ex- 
pect it  is? " 

^^  Don't  know.  Some  lighthouse;  we're  on 
soundings." 

He  is  gone.  I  rub  the  sleep  from  my  eyes  and 
scan  the  clear-cut  horizon  ahead.  There  is  no  sign, 
of  a  light,  and  I  pace  up  and  down,  and  back  and 
forth  from  cathead  to  cathead,  with  an  occasional 
glance  over  the  sea.  It  is  a  beautiful  night — the 
kind  that  brings  meditation  and  retrospection. 
335 


Shipmates 


The  full  moon  hangs  in  the  southern  sky,  and 
depending  from  it  to  the  horizon  is  a  darkening  of 
the  deep  blue  which  can  only  be  likened  to  a  shad- 
ow or  a  curtain  of  shade.  From  a  point  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  ship  to  the  base  of  this  curtain 
extends  a  glittering,  narrowing  track  of  liquid  fire. 
There  are  a  few  stars  shining  faintly  in  the  flood  of 
light;  there  is  wind,  a  soughing  breath  aloft,  just 
strong  enough  to  belly  the  canvas;  overboard  is  a 
tinkling,  musical  wash  of  water,  accentuated  to  a 
rhythmical  crash  under  the  bow  as  the  ship  buries 
her  cutwater,  and  losing  volume  on  the  way  aft  to 
revive  in  the  swirling  cross-currents  of  the  wake. 
I  can  hear  the  murmur  of  my  watch  mates'  voices 
amidships,  and  the  regular  thumping  of  the  mate's 
boot  heels  on  the  poop.  He  is  pacing  up  and  down 
like  myself,  perhaps  from  habit,  perhaps  to  waken 
himself;  for  we  have  all  lost  much  sleep  lately. 

But  I  am  wide  awake — the  moonlight  and  its 
memories  have  banished  the  sleep — and  I  halt  in 
my  walk  to  lean  over  the  capstan,  with  no  fear  of 
the  drowsiness  which  usually  attends  the  first  half- 
hour  of  the  watch  on  deck  at  night.  It  was  just 
such  a  night  as  this  when  I  once  walked  through  a 
lane  with  a  girl  and  stopped  at  the  gate  of  a  flower- 
filled  yard.  And  though  my  eyes  are  mechanically 
336 


On  the  Forecastle  Deck 

fixed  upon  the  horizon  ahead  and  to  port,  watching 
for  that  flashing  white  light,  my  mental  vision  is 
taken  up  with  the  image  of  the  girl.  She  is  facing 
me,  one  small  hand  resting  on  the  gate,  one  small 
foot  peeping  from  beneath  her  dress,  the  colour 
gone  from  the  cheek,  and  the  tears  starting  in  her 
eyes.  In  the  strong  moonlight  I  can  see  the 
womanly  pity  and  regret  in  her  sweet  face,  the 
twitching  at  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  the 
slow,  troubled  nodding  of  her  head.  She  is  saying: 
"  No,  no ;  I  am  not  for  you.  We  are  not  alike. 
You  must  go  your  way,  and  I  must  go  mine.  We 
can  not  even  be  friends,  for  there  is  no  middle 
ground.'' 

And  that  is  why  I  am  back  before  the  mast  this 
night,  hanging  over  the  capstan,  watching  for  a 
flashing  white  light  and  thinking  of  her.  The  re- 
bellious heart  in  my  breast  chokes  me,  and  the  re- 
bellious brain  in  my  head  throbs  in  pain  while  it 
tries  to  formulate  the  reason  of  it  all — why  I,  who 
must  love  her  through  life,  am  debarred  on  this 
account  alone  from  her  friendship,  from  her  so- 
ciety— from  even  her  acquaintance.  I,  who  would 
give  my  all  for  a  smile,  for  a  glance  of  recogni- 
tion, must  not  know  her,  speak  to  her,  nor  meet 
her.  The  stranger  yet  unborn  is  nearer  to  her 
337 


Shipmates 


than  am  I,  and  of  the  millions  of  human  beings  in 
the  world  she  is  farthest  removed  from  me. 

Because,  for  certain  temperaments,  ihere  is  no 
middle  ground. 

It  is  a  bitter  speculation,  and  not  all  men  have 
known  it.  In  my  own  case  I  can  only  work  out 
the  problem  to  this:  I  love  because  I  can  appreci- 
ate— I  lose  because  I  love  too  much. 

A  twinkle  of  light  shows  on  the  dark  line  of 
horizon.  I  stand  erect  to  make  sure,  and  it  is 
gone.    As  I  watch  it  sparkles  again. 

"  Flashing  white  light  on  the  port  bow,  sir,"  I 
sing  out,  glad  of  the  relief  to  my  bitterness  of 
mind — gratified  that  I  had  been  first  to  see  it. 

"  All  right.'^ 

I  watch  the  light.  It  is  not  regular  in  its  com- 
ing and  going;  it  has  a  refulgence  uncommon  in 
beacon  lights;  it  leaps  to  a  flare,  and  sinks  to  a 
glow;  it  expands  to  a  nebula,  and  breaks  up  into 
fragments. 

"  Keep  her  away  for  that  light,"  I  hear  the 
mate  call  to  the  man  at  the  wheel;  then,  to  the 
third  mate :  ^'  Eouse  out  all  hands ;  send  up  a 
rocket  or  show  a  torch.    That's  a  ship  afire." 

A  ship  afire!  I  turn  and  look  again.  There 
is  no  mistake — the  mate  is  right.  I  can  clearly 
338 


On  the  Forecastle  Deck 

make  out  two  slim  spars  and  a  black  funnel,  sharp- 
ly cut  in  the  reflection.  The  blaze  is  aft,  and  the 
steamer  is  heading  toward  us,  while  from  our 
change  of  course  she  takes  a  position  from  two 
points  on  the  port  bow  to  one  directly  ahead. 

As  though  the  powers  behind  the  wind  had 
taken  direct  cognizance  of  the  extremity,  the 
breeze  freshens  with  our  change  of  course,  and 
we  rush  down  the  wind  with  breaking  seas  curling 
under  our  counter.  Yards  are  square  as  before, 
for  the  change  merely  brings  the  wind  from 
slightly  on  one  quarter  to  slightly  on  the  other. 
Soon  we  can  make  out  the  shape  and  position  of 
deck  houses  and  the  indefinite  shadow  of  hull  be- 
neath. Over  the  sparkling  flare,  and  left  behind 
by  her  motion,  stretches  a  canopy  of  smoke;  and 
there  is  a  black  thickening  and  rise  of  her  sheer 
forward  which  can  be  nothing  but  closely  packed 
human  beings. 

The  watch  below  is  out.  Men  are  clewing  up 
the  courses;  others  are  dancing  aloft  to  the  fore- 
yard  with  hoisting  tackles;  aft,  the  third  mate  and 
the  ship's  boys  are  clearing  away  a  quarter-boat, 
and  amidships  the  carpenter  is  sending  up  rockets. 
But  I  am  on  lookout,  and  until  called  down  or  re- 
lieved, can  take  no  part  in  this. 
339 


Shipmates 


With  the  increase  of  wind  comes  a  lowering 
of  temperature  and  a  darkening  of  the  sky.  I 
shiver,  and  buttoning  my  jacket  snug  to  my  throat, 
resume  my  walk  back  and  forth  from  cathead  to 
cathead.  A  glance  aft  shows  me  the  southern  sky 
shaded  with  an  almost  opaque  curtain  of  cloud; 
the  moon  is  nearly  obscured.  A  few  flakes  of 
snow  brush  my  cheek;  a  keener  edge  comes  to  the 
pressure  of  wind,  and  aloft  the  seolian  song  of  a 
new-born  gale  wails  in  the  rigging.  There  will  be 
trouble  and  grief  to-night,  I  know:  boat  work  in 
a  snow-storm  and  rising  sea. 

"  Keep  a  good  lookout  for'ard,  there,"  roars 
the  mate  from  amidships,  and  I  answer,  thankful, 
with  a  sailor's  irresponsibility,  that  mine  is  the 
easiest  duty  on  board. 

Fast  as  we  are  charging  toward  the  flaming 
craft,  the  snow  squall  is  faster,  and  soon  details 
are  hidden;  nothing  but  a  red  glow  guides  the 
man  at  the  wheel,  and  toward  this  we  rush  at  ten 
knots,  while  the  blaze  itself  approaches  at  an  equal 
speed,  until  again  details  are  shown  us.  She  is 
still  head  to  wind;  but  engines  have  stopped,  and 
steam  is  escaping  in  a  muffled  roar.  The  fire  has 
reached  the  engine-room,  and  we  are  just  in  time. 
To  our  ears  against  the  gale  come  screamings 
340 


On  the  Forecastle  Deck 

and  shoutings,  and  we  see  frantic  waving  of 
hats. 

"  Check  in  starboard  fore  and  port  cro'  jack 
braces/'  calls  the  skipper  from  the  poop.  "  Leave 
the  main-yards  square  till  we  try  her.  Down  wi' 
the  wheel.    Starboard— hard  over." 

Around  we  come  with  the  swinging  of  the 
yards  Until  the  canvas  on  the  main  is  aback;  the 
helmsman  is  given  a  course  and  the  ship  is  tried. 
A  little  manipulation  of  the  main-yards  satisfies 
the  skipper,  and  we  lie  steady  on  the  port  bow  of 
the  steamer,  drifting  bodily  to  leeward,  with 
vicious  seas  from  squarely  abeam  pounding  our 
weather  side.  We  are  hove  to,  with  our  starboard 
fore  yard-arm  directly  over  the  boats  on  the  for- 
ward house.  A  skilful  manoeuvre,  but  he  is  a 
skilful  skipper. 

"Over  with  the  boats!" 

They  are  already  cleared  away,  turned  on  their 
keels,  and  the  yard-arm  tackles  hooked  to  the 
ring-bolts.  Up  they  rise,  one  at  a  time,  with  two 
men  in  each  to  unhook  and  drop  the  boat  back  to 
the  main  channels.  Outboard  they  swing  until  the 
two  end  tackles  from  the  fore  and  main  yards  can 
take  their  weight,  and  they  descend  to  the  water. 
One  at  a  time  the  three  boats  are  launched  to  the 
341 


Shipmates 


tune  of  the  mate's  roaring  orders,  and  not  a  man 
is  hurt  or  a  drop  of  water  shipped.  A  skilful  job, 
but — ^he  is  a  skilful  mate. 

Aft,  the  ship's  boys  under  the  third  mate  have 
lowered  the  lee  quarter-boat,  and  are  off  with  a 
hurrah,  just  ahead  of  the  first  of  the  whale-boats 
from  forward.  Then  follow  the  rest:  four  boats^ 
crews  are  racing  to  leeward  to  save  life,  cheering 
as  they  disappear  in  a  thick  smudge  of  snow  from 
which  they  may  not  return.  As  the  third  mate  is 
in  the  quarter-boat,  the  other  three  must  be  in 
charge  of  the  second  mate  and  the  two  boatswains, 
leaving  the  first  mate  aboard;  for  I  hear  again  his 
thundering  voice  from  the  poop :  ''  Keep  a  good 
lookout  for'ard,  there." 

I  answer  again,  and  watch  in  the  direction  of 
the  steamer.  The  towering  flame  seems  to  cut  the 
snow  in  a  line  with  my  eyes;  for,  though  I  can  see 
her  distinctly,  and  apparently  can  see  the  crisping 
sea  beneath  my  line  of  sight,  the  boats  are  invisi- 
ble. 1  look  slowly  around  at  the  inclosing  wall  of 
gray,  and  see  nothing  but  our  spars  and  deck  fit- 
tings. No  prompt  report  from  a  lookout  could 
save  a  ship  hove  to  in  this  snow  should  anything 
under  sail  or  steam  come  out  of  that  gray  wall: 
yet  I  am  on  lookout,  and  my  duty  is  to  watch, 
342 


On  the  Forecastle  Deck 

But  I  would  now  rather  be  in  one  of  those  boats, 
cheering  with  the  rest  as  I  pull  to  save  life. 

A  rocket  rises  from  amidships  at  regular  inter- 
vals. We  have  a  lazaret  half  full  and  the  car- 
penter does  not  sparis  them.  Up  they  go,  whizzing 
and  sputtering,  high  above  the  royal  yards  before 
they  turn  down  and  burst.  It  is  this  bursting  in 
mid-air  that  is  depended  upon  to  show  our  direc- 
tion to  the  boats:  it  can  be  seen  through  snow 
and  fog  that  would  obscure  the  fiery  line  of 
ascent. 

I  turn  to  the  burning  steamer.  She  is  now  on 
our  starboard  bow,  drifting  to  leeward  at  a  lesser 
rate  than  ours,  for  we  are  under  sail.  She  is 
pointing  our  way,  nearly  end  on,  and  the  flames 
amidships  are  lapping  the  bridge  near  the  foremost 
— this  from  the  change  of  head  to  beam  wind.  The 
black  thickening  at  the  forward  rail  is  now  thicker, 
and  I  can  plainly  see  little  dots  and  spots  descend- 
ing from  it — ^people  jumping,  probably  into  our 
boats. 

This  is  soon  confirmed.  The  dots  and  spots 
cease  dropping,  and  a  faint  cheer  comes  over  the 
sea.  Kocket  after  rocket  goes  aloft  until  a  rous- 
ing hail  to  starboard  indicates  the  return  of  the 
first  boat.  It  is  the  quarter-boat.  She  comes 
343 


Shipmates 


ghost-like  and  immense  out  of  the  snow,  and  the 
third  mate  sings  out: 

"  Women  and  children,  sir.  Let's  have  a  bo- 
sun's chair.'' 

The  boat  comes  around  to  the  lee  side.  Four 
men  have  been  left  aboard  and  the  bosun's  chair 
is  already  rigged.  Down  it  goes  from  the  lee 
main-yard  and  brings  up  a  woman.  Down  again; 
up  with  another.  Then  comes  a  man  with  a  child 
in  his  arms;  then  more  men.  The  steward  minis- 
ters unto  them,  and  the  boat  disappears  into  the 
gray. 

The  other  boats  heave  in  sight,  one  by  one,  and 
discharge  their  living  freight;  then  back  to  the 
steamer  and  back  to  the  ship.  The  decks  are  fill- 
ing with  men  and  boys,  and  here  and  there  a 
woman  or  a  child.  Some  seek  the  shelter  of  the 
forward  house,  and  stare  to  windward  at  the  red 
glare  upon  the  gray  wall.  One  slight  figure  leaves 
this  group,  steps  upon  the  forehatch,  and  looks 
steadily  up  at  me. 

We  are  drifting  faster  than  the  blazing 
steamer;  she  is  now  on  our  port  bow,  and  our  dis- 
tance is  increasing;  but,  as  I  watch,  the  black  line 
on  her  forward  rail  grows  thinner  and  thinner, 
while  boat  after  boat  comes  out  of  the  snow  and 
344 


On  the  Forecastle  Deck 

returns  to  her.  Then  they  come,  the  four  together, 
and  I  hear  the  joyful  hail  of  the  second  mate: 
"  Got  'em  all,  sir.  Good  thing,  too.  There's 
powder  in  her  hold." 

I  step  to  leeward  and  look  down  on  the  con- 
fusion below  where  three  boats  endeavour  to  keep 
clear  of  each  other  while  a  fourth  unloads.  Then 
I  return  to  the  capstan,  where,  facing  me  in  the 
flurry  of  snowflakes,  is  a  slight  figure — a  woman. 
One  small  hand  rests  upon  the  capstan,  one  small 
foot  peeps  from  beneath  her  dress.  I  had  seen 
this  attitude  in  a  girl  at  a  gate  in  the  moonlight. 
The  parallel  is  more  complete — there  is  the  same 
slow,  troubled  nodding  of  the  head.  It  is  more 
than  complete;  it  is  the  girl.  For,  though  I  can 
not  distinguish  her  features,  I  know  her  voice 
when  she  speaks. 

"  You  would  not  come  home,  so  I  come  to  you. 
Why  would  you  not  come?    I  waited  so  long." 

I  spring  toward  her,  and  she  advances,  her 
head  still  slowly  nodding.  I  forget  the  situation — 
the  storm,  the  crowded  decks,  my  position  on 
lookout,  our  isolated  prominence  in  full  view  of 
those  who  would  look — and  I  extend  my  arms. 

But  a  sudden  lighting  up  of  the  duU-hued 
blanket  of  sea  and  sky  startles  us  both.  Then 
23  345 


shipmates 


comes  gray  darkness,  and  on  the  port  bow  is  a  faint 
point  of  light  where -had  shown  the  flare  of  the 
burning  steamer;  then  a  shock,  and  a  report  like 
the  boom  of  near-by  thunder,  and,  with  the  point 
of  light  fast  fixed  in  my  eyes,  I  hear  a  thundering 
voice  from  the  poop:  "Keep  a  good  lookout  for- 
ward, there." 

A  shiver,  colder  than  the  snow,  passes  through 
me;  the  girl  seems  to  move  away  into  nothingness; 
the  gray  of  the  snow-filled  air  changes  to  the  clear 
brightness  of  a  moonlit  sky,  and  I  am  hanging  over 
the  capstan  still  gazing  at  a  point  of  light  burn- 
ing steadily  on  the  port  bow.  It  bursts  into  a 
flare  for  a  second,  then  subsides  to  its  steady 
glow. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  I  manage  to  answer,  while  my 
brain  reels  and  my  legs  quiver  under  my  weight. 
*^  Flashing  white  light  on  the  port  bow,  sir." 

"  All  right — all  right.  Keep  your  eyes  open 
on  lookout,  there."  But  the  mate  does  not  come 
forward. 

I  have  slept  on  lookout.  How  long  I  do  not 
know,  until  a  watch-mate  appears  within  call  and  I 
hail  him. 

"  How  many  times  did  the  mate  sing  out  to 
keep  a  good  lookout? " 

346 


On  the  Forecastle  Deck 

''  Once.  He  saw  the  light  'fore  you  did.  Been 
asleep? " 

^^About  a  second  or  two." 

Dreams  are  curious  in  that  they  require  no 
time  that  can  be  measured  by  finite  units.  That 
call  from  the  mate  to  "  keep  a  good  lookout  for- 
ward, there/'  which  I  heard  twice  at  different  times 
in  my  dream,  was  the  call  which  wakened  me.  A 
dream  is  an  instantaneous  photograph,  not  a  mov- 
ing picture  of  sequences,  and  I  had  long  known  it. 
But  what  I  do  not  know,  and  what  I  shall  learn 
when  I  reach  shore,  is  the  inner  meaning  of  that 
dream.  I  shall  be  there  in  a  month,  when  the 
moon  will  again  be  full;  and  I  shall  seek  a  quiet 
country  village  that  I  know,  a  lane  in  that  village, 
a  gate  in  the  lane,  a  house  behind  the  gate,  a  girl 
in  the  house.  I  shall  ask  her  if,  at  half  past  twelve 
of  this  night,  she  did  not  dream  of  storm  and  fire, 
and  rescue  at  sea. 

I  may  also  ask  her  something  else. 


THE  END 


347 


A  PICTURESQUE  BOOK  OF  THE  SEA. 

A  Sailor's  Log. 

Recollections  of  Forty  Tears  of  Naval  Life.  By  Rear- 
Admiral  Robley  D.  Evans,  U.  S.  N.  Illustrated. 
Large  i2mo.     Cloth,  ^2.00. 

''It  is  essentially  a  book  for  men,  young  and  old  ;  and  the 
man  who  does  not  enjoy  it  is  lacking  in  healthy  red  blood." — 
Chicago  Bookseller, 

''A  profoundly  interesting  book.  There  is  not  a  line  of  bra- 
vado in  its  chapters,  nor  a  carping  criticism.  It  is  a  book  which 
will  increase  the  esteem  and  high  honor  which  the  American  feels 
and  willingly  awards  our  naval  heroes." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  an  autobiography  possessing 
more  interest  than  this  narrative  of  forty  years  of  active  naval  serv- 
ice. It  equals  the  most  fascinating  novel  for  interest ;  it  contains 
a  great  deal  of  material  that  has  a  distinct  historical  value.  .  .  . 
Altogether  it  is  a  most  delightful  book." — Brooklyn  Eagle, 

''  His  is  a  picturesque  personality,  and  he  stands  the  supreme 
test  by  being  as  popular  with  his  officers  and  men  as  he  is  with 
the  public  generally.  His  life  has  been  one  of  action  and  adven- 
ture since  he  was  a  boy,  and  the  record  of  it  which  he  has  pre- 
pared in  his  book  'A  Sailor's  Log'  has  not  a  dull  line  in  it  from 
cover  to  cover.  It  is  all  action,  action,  and  again  action  from  the 
first  page  to  the  last,  and  makes  one  want  to  go  and  *  do  things  ' 
himself.  Any  boy  between  ritteen  and  nineteen  who  reads  this 
book  and  does  not  want  to  go  to  sea  must  be  a  sluggish  youth. 
.  .  .  The  book  is  really  an  interesting  record  of  an  interesting 
man." — Neza  York  Press, 

D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


BOOKS   BY  FRANK   T^   BULLEN. 
The  Log  of  a  Sea- Waif. 

Being  Recollections  of  the  First  Four  Years  of  my  Sea   Life. 
Illustrated.      Uniform  Edition.      i2mo.      Cloth,  ;gi.5o. 

The  brilliant  author  of  <*  The  Cruise  of  the  Cachalot"  and  **  Idylls  of  the 
Sea**  presents  in  this  new  work  the  continuous  story  of  the  actual  experience* 
of  his  first  four  years  at  sea.  In  graphic  and  picturesque  phrases  he  has  sketched 
the  events  of  voyages  to  the  West  Indies,  to  Bombay  and  the  Coromandel  coast, 
to  Melbourne  and  Rangoon.  Nothing  could  be  of  more  absorbing  interest 
than  this  wonderfully  vivid  account  of  foks'l  humanity,  and  the  adventures  and 
•trange  sights  and  experiences  attendant  upon  deep-sea  voyages.  It  is  easy  to  see 
in  this  book  an  English  companion  to  our  own  **  Two  Years  before  the  Mast.** 

Idylls  of  the  Sea. 

i2mo.      Cloth,  ;gi.25. 

**  The  *  deep-sea  wonder  and  mystery '  which  Kipling  found  in  Frank  T. 
Bullen*s  *  Cruise  of  the  Cachalot  *  is  appreciable  again  in  this  literary  mate's 
new  book,  *  Idylls  of  the  Sea.*  We  feel  ourselves  tossed  with  him  at  the 
mercy  of  the  weltering  elements,**  etc. — Philadelphia  Record. 

**  Amplifies  and  intensifies  the  picture  of  the  sea  which  Mr.  Bullen  had 
ah-eady  produced.  .  .  .  Calm,  shipwreck,  the  surface  and  depths  of  the  sea, 
the  monsters  of  the  deep,  superstitions  and  tales  of  the  sailors — all  find  a  place 
in  this  strange  and  exciting  book.** — Chicago  Times-Herald. 

The  Cruise  of  the  Cachalot, 

Round  the  World  after  Sperm  Whales.      Illustrated.       i2mo. 
^loth,  ^1.50. 

"It  is  immense — there  is  no  other  word.  I've  never  read  anything  that 
equals  it  in  its  deep-sea  wonder  and  mystery,  nor  do  I  think  that  any  book  before 
has  so  completely  covered  the  whole  business  of  whale  fishing,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  given  such  real  and  new  sea  pictures.  I  congratulate  you  most  heartily. 
It's  a  new  world  you*vc  opened  the  door  to.** — Rudyard  Kipling. 

"  Written  with  racy  freedom  of  literary  expression  and  luxuriant  abundance 
of  incident,  so  that  *  The  Cruise  of  the  Cachalot '  becomes  a  story  of  fascinating 
vividness  which  thrills  the  reader  and  amuses  him.  The  volume  is  no  less  en- 
thralling than  *  Two  Years  before  the  Mast,*  and  higher  praise  can  not  be 
accorded  to  a  story  of  the  sea.  ...  A  book  of  such  extraordinary  merit  as 
seldom  comes  to  hand.'* — Philadelphia  Press. 

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This  series  forms  one  of  the  most  notable  collections  of  books  that  ha5 
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form  and  moderate  compass  the  records  of  the  lives  of  men  who  have  been 
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raphy has  been  written  by  an  author  especially  well  qualified  for  the  task, 
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Admiral  Faffagut    -    -    -    -     By  Captain  A.  T.  Mahan,  U.  S.  N. 

General  Taylor By  General  O.  O.  Howard,  U.  S.  A. 

General  Jackson By  James  Barton. 

General  Greene By  General  Francis  V.  Greene. 

General  J.  E.  Johnston     -    -  By  Robert  M.  Hughes,  of  Virginia. 

General  Thomas By  Henry  Coppee,  LL.  D. 

General  Scott By  General  Marcus  J.  Wright. 

General  Washington     -    -    -     By  General  Bradley  T.  Johnson. 

General  Lee By  General  Fitzhugh  Lee. 

General  Hancock By  General  Francis  A.  Walker. 

General  Sheridan By  General  Henry  E.  Davies. 

General  Grant By  General  James  Grant  Wilson. 

General  Sherman By  General  Manning  F.  Force. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones   -    -    -    -    By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

General  Meade By  Isaac  R.  Pennypacker. 

General  McCIellan By  General  Peter  S.  Michie. 

IN  PREPARATION. 

Admiral  Porter By  James  R.  Soley,  late  Ass't  Sec'y  U.  S.  Navy. 

General  Forrest -    -    -    -    By  Captain  J.  Harvey  Mathes. 

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A  REMARKABLE  AND  TIMELY  BOOK. 


The  Private    Life  of  the  Sultan. 

By  Georges  Dorys,  son  of  the  late  Prince  of  Samos, 
a  former  minister  of  the  Sultan,  and  formerly  Governor 
of  Crete.  Translated  by  Arthur  Hornblow.  Uniform 
with  "The  Private  Life  of  King  Edward  VII."  Illus- 
trated. i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.20  net;  postage,  lo  cents  addi- 
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The  high  position  that  the  writer's  father  held  at  Constantinople  gave  the 
son  a  close  insight  into  the  personality  of  one  of  the  least  known  of  modem 
rulers,  so  far  as  personality  is  concerned.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the 
author  has  long  since  left  the  domain  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  and  he  is 
now  a  member  of  the  Young  Turk  party  and  a  resident  of  Paris.  It  is  now 
announced  that  he  has  been  recently  condemned  to  death  by  the  Sultan  on 
account  of  this  book.  He  was  formerly  a  correspondent  of  the  London 
Chronicle  and  sub-correspondent  of  the  London  Times  at  Constantinople. 
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shown,  however,  by  the  fact  that  this  book  was  recently  suppressed  in 
Copenhagen.  The  power  and  persistence  of  Turkey,  and  the  importance 
of  the  Sultan  in  European  politics  as  shown  by  the  German  Emperor's 
efforts  at  affiliation,  add  weight  to  this  curious  story  of  the  Sultan's  rise  to 
power,  his  strange  daily  life  and  personal  habits.  The  various  details  prac- 
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actual  character  of  a  man  with  vast  power  and  capable  of  causing  the  most 
serious  complications  in  world  politics.  This  intimate  history  will  help  the 
reader  to  balance  the  conflicting  opinions  that  have  been  expressed  of  the 
Sultan,  ranging  from  Gladstone's  phrase  "  The  Great  Assassin  "  to  the  com- 
paratively rose-colored  views  of  him  as  an  amiable  ruler,  much  harassed  by 
rebellious  Armenians  and  unreasonably  persistent  creditors.  The  prospect 
of  the  changes  likely  to  be  evolved  by  the  Eastern  question  before  much  time 
passes  enhances  the  value  of  this  book.  The  illustrations,  which  are  numer- 
ous and  interesting,  include  an  actual  sketch  of  the  Sultan  that  will  be 
found  strangely  at  variance  with  the  much  earlier  retouched  portraits  that 
usually  pass  as  recent  likenesses. 

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Mammon  &  Co. 

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heart  the  tragedy  of  human  experience,  and  writes  of  it  feelingly.'* — Boston 
Herald. 

Dodo. 

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to  meet  present  exigencies,  for  Mr.  Hall  Caine  has  done  for  the 
myriads  of  his  English  readers  what  Walpole  did  for  a  smaller  yet 
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No  one  can  read  this  collection  of  short  stories  without  feeling  that  he  is  master  of  the 
subject." — Chicago  jfournal. 

Jason  Edwards. 

An  Average  Man. 

*'  The  average  man  in  the  industrial  ranks  is  presented  in  this  story  in  as  lifelike  a 
manner  as  Mr.  Bret  Harte  presented  the  men  in  the  California  mining  camps  thirty 
years  ago.  ...  A  story  which  will  be  read  with  absorbing  interest  by  hundreds  of 
workingmen." — Boston  Herald. 

A  Member  of  the  Third  House. 

A  Story  of  Political  Warfare. 

**  The  work  is,  in  brief,  a  keen  and  searching  study  of  lobbies  and  lobbyists.  At 
least  it  is  the  lobbies  that  furnish  its  motive.  For  the  rest,  the  story  is  narrated  with 
much  power,  and  the  characters  of  Brennan  the  smart  wire-puller,  the  millionaire  Davis, 
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for  them  to  live  in.  They  seem  to  move  and  act  in  the  cold  gray  light  of  reality,  and 
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A  Spoil  of  Office. 

A  Story  of  the  Modem  West. 

**It  awakens  in  the  mind  a  tremendous  admiration  for  an  artist  who  could  so  find 
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of  Office '  one  feels  a  continuation  of  interest  extending  from  the  fictional  into  the  actual, 
with  no  break  or  divergence.  And  it  seems  to  be  only  a  question  of  waiting  a  day  or 
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hooV..*^— 'Chicago  Record. 

"  Fresh  and  absorbing  in  its  interest  A  novel  of  red  blood  and  vigorous  life."— 
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Some  Women  I  have  Known. 

*'  Maarten  Maartens  is  one  of  the  best  novel  writers  of  this  or 
any  day." — Chicago  Times- Herald. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  stands  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
average  novelist  of  the  day  in  intellectual  subtlety  and  imaginative 
power." — Boston  Beacon. 

Her  Memory.     With  Photogravure  Portrait. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  took  us  all  by  storm  some  time  ago  with 
his  fine  story  christened  *  God's  Fool.'  He  established  himself 
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can  not  afford  to  neglect. " — San  Francisco  Chronicle, 

God's  Fool. 

"Throughout  there  is  an  epigrammatic  force  which  would 
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deftly  told." — London  Saturday  Review, 

Joost  Avelingh. 

**  Aside  from  the  masterly  handling  of  the  principal  characters 
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Herald, 


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torical value,  since  it  pictures  conditions  attendant  upon  the  anti- 
slavery  movement  and  the  days  of  the  war.  The  interest  of  a 
treasure  search  runs  through  the  tale,  the  author  having  adroitly 
utilized  a  mountain  legend  of  a  lost  mine.  *«Pine  Knot"  is  a 
romance  ''racy  of  the  soil  "  in  a  true  sense,  a  story  fresh,  strong, 
and  absorbing  in  its  interest  throughout. 

**Like  Mr.  Allen's  *  Reign  of  Law,'  *  Pine  Knot'  is  a  thoroughly  whole- 
some story  written  by  a  man  of  earnestness  and  purpose.  It  is  a  novel  to  be 
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power  of  describing  an  interesting  and  generally  unknown  people  so  apprecia- 
tively, graphically,  and  often  humorously. — The  book  has  a  vivid,  cumulative 
interest. ' ' — Congregationalist. 

A  Hero  in  Homespun. 

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Paper,  50  cents;   cloth,  ^i.oo. 

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**  A  thoroughly  interesting,  red-blooded,  virile  story,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  historical  document  of  the  very  greatest  value." — The  Bookman, 

**  Will  be  read  with  keen  enjoyment." — Ne'w  Tork  Times. 

**The  story  is  one  of  intense  interest." — Boston  Herald. 

"  Abounds  in  life  and  incident.  The  men  and  women  move  and  act 
spontaneously.  The  primitive  customs  and  usages  of  the  mountaineers  have 
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>  Mill Ill  I  1 

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i  z=. 

The  Wilderness  Road* 

J  Romance  of  St.  Clair's  Defeat  and  Wayne's  Victory.  By  J. 
A.  Altsheler,  author  of  **  In  Circling  Camps,"  *^A  Herald  of 
the  West,"  etc. 

**Full  of  health  and  vigorous  life.** — Chicago  yournal. 

**  The  author  is  one  of  those  who  do  not  need  warm  commendation ;  his 
name  will  carry  any  story." — Buffalo  CommerciaL 

"There  is  a  strong  odor  of  the  open  country,  and  many  fine  pictures  of  the 
woodland  in  this  book,  and  above  it  all  stands  out  the  eternal  interest  the  reader 
takes  in  the  characters." — Neiv  York  Journal. 

**  He  takes  his  situations,  always  lively,  dramatic,  and  full  of  possibilities, 
and  handles  them  with  an  ease  and  adroitness  the  skill  of  which  is  more  and 
more  apparent  as,  in  their  turnings  and  twistings,  they  constantly  flash  upon  the; 
fascinated  reader  some  new  phase,  yet  ever  leave  him  in  the  dark  as  to  the 
next  move  or  the  final  outcome. — Chicago  Tribune, 

The  Curious  Courtship  of  Kate  Poins* 

By  Louis  Evan  Shipman.      Illustrated. 

*' One  of  the  best  written  novels  of  the  year.  It  will  be  widely  read  and 
generally  admired.  The  romance  has  vigor,  tone,  and  cumulative  interest  that 
increases  as  the  story  ascends  to  its  climax.'* — Philadelphia  Item. 

**The  rakish  days  of  Beau  Brummell  afforded  delightful  material  for  a  bril- 
liant and  diverting  romance,  and  the  author  of  **  D'Arcy  of  the  Guards  "  has 
made  fullest  use  of  it.  The  story  lacks  little  in  either  boldness  or  brilliancy.** 
— Cleveland  World. 

The  Lucfc  of  the  Vails* 

A  Romance.  By  E.  F.  Benson,  author  of  ''Dodo,"  "The 
Rubicon,"  ''Mammon  &  Co." 

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max. '  * — Neivark  Advertiser. 

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through.'* — Waterhury  American. 

**  The  story  is  well  told,  the  interest  is  sustained  throughout,  working  up 
to  a  fitting  climax,  and  the  book  is  full  of  bright,  entertaining  conversation." — 
Chicago  Journal. 

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By  ELLEN  TH0RNEYC210FT  FOWLER. 


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A  new  book  by  the  author  of  **  Concerning  Isabel  Camaby  "  and  **  The 
Farringdons  "  needs  no  introduction.  All  readers  of  the  best  fiction  know 
her  epigrammatic  quality  and  humor,  her  adroitness  in  the  suggestion  of 
character,  and  her  command  of  original  situations  and  unexpected  social 
climaxes.  Her  new  book  is  a  gallery  of  vivid  miniature  of  various  phases  of 
English  life.  Its  unfailing  interest  will  increase  the  author's  well-earned 
reputation, 

Cupid's  Garden.     With  new  portrait  of  the  Author. 

**  Whatever  this  author  sends  out  has  freshness  and  originality,  and  her 
sketches  of  people  are  so  deftly  drawn  that  one  wonders  at  the  versatility. 
*  Cupid's  Garden'  is  a  collection  of  stories  of  love,  not  all  of  which  run 
smooth,  but  which  all  exhibit  some  noble  trait  of  the  tender  passion." 
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The  Farringdons. 

"  Miss  Fowler  makes  her  own  audience,  which,  large  as  it  is  in  England, 
must  be  even  larger  in  this  country.  There  is  a  deeper  note  in  this  story  than 
any  she  has  yet  sounded.  .  .  .  '  The  Farringdons '  is,  above  all  else,  a  procla- 
mation to  the  world  that  the  religion  which  Christ  brought  to  humanity  is  a 
living  power,  undiminished  in  strength,  the  mainspring  of  the  actions  and 
aspirations  of  millions  of  Anglo-Saxons." — New  York  Mail  and  Express, 

Concerning  Isabel  Carnaby.     New  edition,  with 

Portrait  and  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Author. 

**  No  one  who  reads  it  will  regret  it  or  forget  it." — Chicago  Tribune. 

*'For  brilliant  conversations,  epigrammatic  bits  of  philosophy,  keenness 
of  wit,  and  full  insight  into  human  nature,  '  Concerning  Isabel  Camaby '  is 
a  remarkable  success." — Boston  Transcript, 

A  Double  Thread. 

*'  The  excellence  of  her  writing  makes  her  book  delightful  reading.  She 
is  genial  and  s)rmpathetic  without  being  futile,  and  witty  without  being 
cjrnical." — Literature^  London, 

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BY  CYRUS  TQWNSEND  BRADY. 

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"  An  excellent  biography . " — The  Outlook. 

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and  characteristic  incidents  not  hitherto  published." — Neiv  Ha'ven  Palladium. 

"No  better  biographer  than  Mr.  Brady  could  have  been  found  for  the  first 
admiral  of  our  fleet.  The  book  is  good  biography,  but  it  is  also  good  patriot- 
ism."— Neiv  Tork  Mail  and  Express. 

**  Brady's  *  Commodore  Jones  '  is  incomparably  fine.  Being  the  work  of  a 
scholarly  writer,  it  must  stand  as  the  best  popular  life  yet  available.  The  book 
is  one  to  buy  and  own.  It  is  more  interesting  than  any  novel,  and  better  written 
than  most  histories." — Nautical  Gazette. 

Reuben  James. 
A  Hero  of  the  Forecastle.     A  new  volume  in  the 
YOUNG   HEROES    OF   OUR   NAVY   SE- 
RIES.   Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs  and  Others. 
i2mo.    Cloth,  1 1. 00. 

"A  lively  and  spirited  narrative." — Boston  Herald. 

"  An  entertaining  and  patriotic  study." — Neivport  Neivs, 

"  Mr.  Brady  has  made  a  stirring  tale  out  of  the  material  before  him,  one  of 
those  brilliant  and  forceful  descriptions  of  the  glories  of  the  old  wooden  walled 
navy,  which  stir  the  blood  like  a  trumpet  call." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

D.     APPLETON    AND     COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


UNIVEESITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBEAEY, 
BERKELEY 

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MAY  0  3  2000 

SEP  5    1921?   U.C.  BERKELEY 
NOV  15  I92a 


20Sep'57B  ig 
REC'D  LO 

SEP  12  liJo'/ 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


